


... A Little More Kill Him

by SaskiaK



Category: Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco, The Academy Is...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-11-02 11:25:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 17
Words: 58,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10943532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaskiaK/pseuds/SaskiaK
Summary: From the ashes of his lost coven, William Beckett is determined to rise again, be more powerful than ever and above all, seek revenge on the hunters who did this to him. Unfortunately, Patrick, Pete, Joe and Andy believe he perished in the fires.Sequel to A Little Less Sixteen Candles... Continued





	1. Beckett Plots His Return To Power

The fires had long since been extinguished, but the acrid smell of smoke and smouldering timber lingered in the air. There was little left of the mansion that could be considered recognisable; one crumbling outer wall and the occasional outline shell of a room and a few charred sticks of furniture. The day’s newspapers had announced the destruction of Beckett’s mansion with the dull objectivity of a media that either had no knowledge of who William Beckett was or was hiding it from the world. The headline duly stated:

_Local Man Killed In Fire_

To add insult to injury, it hadn’t even made front-page news. Beckett read:

_Shortly after dawn, fire crews were called to the nineteenth-century mansion of local man, William Beckett, was killed at a fire in his home. The police suspect arson._

Refusing to read any more, Beckett crumpled the newspaper in his hands and pushed it into Brendon’s chest.

“So, I was killed was I?” Beckett heaved an angry sigh.  
“Master William,” Brendon straightened the newspaper before folding it, his sense of always looking his best never leaving him for a moment. “I fed that story to one of our servants in the media. It’s best if you’re believed to be dead.”  
“Why?” Beckett growled, not taking his eyes from the ruins of his home for a moment.  
“You’re vulnerable at the moment, William… other covens, they…”

Beckett turned, frowning at Brendon before nodding his agreement.

“You’re right, of course, and with a brand new coven, I will remain vulnerable. I need strong vampires at my side.”  
“Master… I…”  
“My dear Brendon,” Beckett cupped Brendon’s cheek. “You are my right hand vampire, I owe my life to you, but you must understand that I will need more than you to rebuild my coven.”  
“What about me?” a voice asked from behind the pair.

Beckett turned slowly, surprised to see Mike Carden, a senior member of his coven, having survived the blaze. His first reaction was one of suspicion, but that was soon pushed aside; Beckett knew the cause of the fire and that he should be quietly grateful that any of them had survived.

“Michael?” Beckett raised his eyebrows. “How did you escape?”  
“You don’t know?” Mike asked with a bitter tone to his voice.

Beckett frowned. Yes, he was grateful for another survivor, but he wasn’t used to his vampires being so discourteous and he knew that he definitely didn’t like it.

“Michael, I warn you…”  
“Save it!” Mike snapped. “I lay in that dungeon, bleeding with my throat torn and you left me to it, abandoned me to heal slowly. You could have helped me, you could have healed me, but no!”

Beckett drew his lips into a thin line as Mike continued his tirade.

“Turns out, you did me a favour. The dungeons were the only places in the mansion safe from the fire. So, here I am and now you need me! You need all the help you can get right now but you can’t even be civil! What can you offer me? What will I get for being more loyal to you than you were to me? Well? Tell me… William.”

Beckett curled his fingers into a fist as Mike dared address him by his name. Mike believed he had reason to feel betrayed. He had, perhaps foolishly, gloated to Pete that he expected Beckett to reward his assistance with Pete’s capture by making him his new Second. Instead, Brendon had been reinstated and Mike had been left bleeding on the floor of the dungeon, having been attacked by the newly turned Patrick. He had been humiliated. Not just by Beckett’s lack of interest in him, but that a fledgling vampire had got the better of him. At first he had wanted only to redeem himself in Beckett’s eyes, but an opportunity had presented itself whereby Beckett was backed into a corner and actually needed him. It wasn’t something he intended to let slip by.

“What do you want?” Beckett spat through gritted teeth.  
“I want power, real power,” Mike insisted.  
“Power?” Beckett mused.

He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it before. He believed that he had lost everything, but it wasn’t all gone, not completely. He still had position, he still had servants and most of all, he still commanded fear. Beckett nodded slowly; it was time to take control, of not only the streets, but the city.

“Very well,” he agreed. “How would you like to run this city?”

Brendon snapped a surprised glance at Beckett at the words. Carden? In charge of the city? Was William serious?

“William? Are you…?”  
“Trust me, Brendon,” Beckett turned a sincere expression towards his Second. “You must trust me.”

For the first time in as long as he could remember, Beckett’s insistence on his trust seemed to hit home and Brendon realised that they weren’t just empty words. Beckett continued:

“We have vampire and human servants in many different professions, many with great power. Now is the time to call them into service. Gentlemen, a new style Coven is born, one with both preternatural and social strength.”  
“And how exactly do I get to run the city?” Mike asked eagerly. “You want me to… ah… convince the Mayor to do what I ask?”  
Beckett gave a small cruel laugh. “As convincing as I know you could be, I think this city is ready for a new Mayor, don’t you? One that… in the interests of humans, of course… will curtail their lives so much that they will rebel.”  
“How will that help?” Mike asked curtly.  
“When we explain that the reason for all their problems is the vampire hunters, I’m quite certain that our four friends will feel suddenly very isolated.” Beckett grinned. “With the Chief of Police, many police officers, doctors, lawyers, politicians, priests and media either vampires or our servants, I don’t see it as a difficult matter to convince the public of anything we wish. On top of which, I think I’ve just solved our living arrangements problem.”

Mike grinned; seeing himself as Mayor raised the broadest smile to his lips and even Brendon found himself joining him. Beckett was rising like a phoenix, literally from the ashes. Somehow reinventing himself and making himself possibly even more powerful than before; Beckett’s influence infected the city like a plague and he was not willing to relinquish his position, no matter what had happened.

*

Joe turned his head sleepily and smiled broadly at the sight of the pretty brunette sleeping peacefully next to him. They had fallen asleep in each other’s arms and barely moved all day. Lifting his left arm, he curled it around her back and pulled her closer. Her own smile widened and she snaked her arm over his chest, resting her cheek against his shoulder as she slept.

“Sorry, my love,” he spoke softly, kissing her head, eliciting a small soft sigh. “I have to get up.”

Pushing his legs out of the bed, Joe reached for his pants and pulled them on. Flashing a quick smile at the still sleeping Andrea, he slipped on a shirt and headed for Patrick’s room. Even before he opened the door, he could hear the muffled, slightly echoing sounds of singing from within. Opening the door slowly, Joe looked down at the steel cabinet lying on its back on the floor. The locks still intact, Patrick was singing inside.

“Joe?” he asked as he heard the door open.  
“Yeah, Trick, it’s me,” Joe laughed as he pulled the key from his pocket. “You okay?”  
“I’m a bit hungry,” came the call from within the cabinet.  
“Uh…” Joe replied hesitantly.  
“I’m not that hungry, Joe,” Patrick groaned in reply.  
“Okay, okay! I had to check.”

Pushing back one of the cabinet doors, Joe looked inside. How strange that he was doing the same thing that Patrick had done for Pete so many times since his return. He wondered if the same uncertainties and concerns had ever crossed his mind when he had released Pete from his own cabinet.

“Yeah, Joe, you’re no different,” Patrick commented casually as he pushed the other door aside and sat up.  
“Uh… Patrick,” Joe began with a degree of uncertainty. “You gotta stop doing that.”  
“What?” Patrick looked up innocently.  
“Reading my mind, I don’t like it.”  
“Wh… what? You didn’t speak?” Patrick frowned.  
“No, I didn’t,” Joe snapped back, sounding much more harsh than he had intended.

Patrick looked down regretfully. So much was so new and unfamiliar to him. Unintentionally, he now read that Joe was more worried about Patrick reading his more personal thoughts about how he felt about Andrea. Without admitting that he had done it again, Patrick was at a loss to reassure him.

“I’m sorry, Joe, I don’t mean to. It’s so new to me. I… I’ll try to keep it under control, okay?”  
“You do that,” Joe replied, his cheeks slightly flushed as he wondered if Patrick was still listening.

Patrick made a determined effort not to respond with even the slightest word or gesture.

“Thanks,” Joe smiled.  
“For what?” Patrick asked now confused.  
“It can’t be easy for you,” Joe shrugged. “You know, the whole being a vampire thing.”  
“It’s new, it’s different, and I’m hoping I’m over the hard bit.”

Joe smiled again and pulled his friend into a hug. Breathing in his scent, almost immediately Patrick pushed Joe away, at first to his dismay.

“N… no,” he stammered. “How can I expect you to trust me, if I can’t even trust myself!”  
“You will, in time,” Joe replied with a voice that sounded calmer than he felt.

Patrick raised a thin smile at Joe’s response, while being especially careful not to read his thoughts.

“Come on, let’s go wake up Pete and I’ll make you something to eat.”  
“Three drops of…”  
“I know,” Joe grinned, “we read the recipe, remember? Tasted like chicken.”

Patrick nodded again; they were good friends. No, they were the best.

*

He was young in human years and only a little less than two as a vampire, but he was already awake. Sitting on the floor, he voiced his concerns for his ears only.

“Master, he thinks your dead, but I know you’re not. I’ll help you rise again and destroy him. I promise you.”

 

*

Opening the door, a man in his late forties, with a look of a man in his late fifties, peered tiredly out into the night. A knock had drawn his attention, but no one seemed to be waiting outside. With a scowl he turned to head back inside. This happened more often than he cared to think about. As Chief of Police, local kids would dare friends to knock on his door and run; it had almost become a hazing ritual for gangs.

“Damn kids!” he grumbled.  
“Not quite,” a smooth, velvety voice corrected him.

Turning sharply at the sound he knew well, the man almost choked at the sight of William Beckett standing in the doorway, leaning forward with his arms across the frame; he almost seemed as if he had been draped across it.

“B… Beckett?” the man stammered. “But… the papers said you were dead.”  
“I am, but not in the way you mean,” the vampire replied casually, leaning towards him menacingly before turning a deep angry frown on the frightened man.  
“How is that possible? Your house burnt down… at dawn! Everyone was ash.”  
“Clearly not,” Beckett sighed. “Now, we have much to discuss.”  
“No, Beckett, we’ve got nothing to discuss. You’ve fallen, your Coven’s gone, you have no power in this town now.”

Beckett cocked his head to one side at the words. Did the humans really think they had nothing to fear from him any more? If that’s what they truly thought, they couldn’t have been further from the truth if they tried. He was William Beckett, the cruellest and most evil vampire leader of all the Covens, and he would take some time to remind these people just how evil. Perhaps he had spent too long concentrating on the hunters? They had destroyed every hunter group in town bar one and that one group had become the biggest thorn in his side he had ever known, thwarting all his plans for expansion and destroying the bulk of his Coven. He would make them pay, certainly, but for now, the humans needed a lesson.

“Where are your manners? Why does everyone suddenly think they can stop calling me Master?” he added with the briefest of glances in Mike’s direction.  
“I don’t bow to you any more, Beckett. Like I said, you’re power’s gone.”  
“Really? You seemed pretty shaken when you saw me,” Beckett taunted.  
“You gave me quite a scare, that’s all,” he replied dryly.  
“Not half as big as the scare I’m going to give you if you don’t invite me in,” Beckett replied baring his fangs menacingly.  
“Oh! Yeah!” the man laughed nervously as he stepped back a few feet and pointing a finger at Beckett. “You need to be invited in, yeah, I forgot that. So if I don’t invite you in, I’m safe here.”

Beckett narrowed his eyes, staring darkly at the man, before a smirk finally played across his lips.

“You think you’re safe?”

Beckett laughed softly and shook his head slowly. In a very successful attempt to intimidate, Beckett crossed the threshold in a slow fluid movement. Staggering back, the Chief of Police almost tripped as his fear affected his coordination. Falling back against the wall, he looked up at the tall slender vampire.

“H… how… I… I never invited you!”  
“Oh, but you did,” Beckett grinned as he leaned over his victim, placing his hand on the wall. “Two years ago, when I got you this job, you told me that I should come around for dinner. Invitations don’t expire.”  
“I… I didn’t mean it! It’s just something you say!”  
“Well,” Beckett grinned as he forcefully held the man against the wall with minimal effort. “You said come for dinner, and here I am, and I’m hungry!”  
“No!” he screamed. “I’ll do anything you want, I’ll… Master Beckett, anything! Please!”  
“Too late.”

Grabbing a handful of hair, Beckett pulled his head to one side and sank his fangs into the man’s neck. Only seconds later, he pulled away, spitting the blood from his mouth and throwing the man to the floor.

“You’re welcome to him, if you want, if not, kill him! I need something sweeter, younger.”

Brendon looked on disdainfully as Mike dropped hungrily to his knees and drained the man, grimacing at the flavour, but enjoying his first real meal since his self-healing. Standing up, Mike wiped the last of the blood from around his mouth.

“I was hungry! Okay?” he cried, feeling the need to defend his actions. “I lost a lot of blood and I had to heal myself, you know! I needed that!”

Brendon shrugged his indifference. He didn’t dislike Mike, he simply had no real opinion of him at all. Up until this point in time, he had largely ignored him. He was a senior vampire, who, until now only seemed interested in pleasing Beckett and killing – but mostly killing. He seemed to really enjoy it, even if he didn’t drink the blood. He didn’t just kill for food or sport or even fun. He seemed to like to kill indiscriminately; someone was likely to die at his hands merely for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. While Brendon didn’t disapprove of Mike’s actions, he was never impressed with his methods. There was very little flair, little thought or effort put into it, merely killing for killing sake. It seemed pointless to go to all that effort and not do it well.

“So what now, William?” Brendon asked with a degree of uncertainty. “We’re certainly not going to get what we came for.”  
“No,” Beckett agreed, “we’re getting so much more.”  
“I don’t understand,” Brendon frowned.  
“Well, it would seem that we need a new Chief of Police. Congratulations, Brendon, I’m sure you’ll do well in the role.”  
“You say this like it’s automatic,” Mike began in a hectoring tone. “Me as Mayor, him as Police Chief, but what makes you think that anyone else – and by that I mean anyone who matters – will just accept it?”

Beckett spun around, seizing Mike by the throat as he turned and pressing him hard up against the wall. As he did, Brendon’s brow furrowed as he tried to see Beckett’s plan in its entirety.

“Listen to me, Michael,” Beckett growled as he squeezed harder. “I grow tired of your assumption that you can address me however you wish. You are subordinate to me and, yes, to Brendon too. You are useful, Michael, but you’re not indispensible. Step out of line once more with either of us and I will finish what that whelp started and rip your throat out and eat it! Do you understand me?”  
“Yes… Master William… I’m sorry.”

Brendon smirked as Mike was thrown to the floor alongside his meal and turned to Beckett.

“You’re placing us in high offices so that we can effectively run the town, almost make our own laws.”  
“Not almost, we will make our own laws.”  
“How?” Brendon turned a quizzical expression to his master.  
“I see myself as the Chief Judge and as such, I intend to call a state of emergency. I will say that he vampire hunters have caused a frenzy amongst the vampire community who have threatened a spate of revenge killings. After all, they’re only trying to protect their own kind. Humans must be restricted, contained… for their own good.”  
“They’ll hate it!” Brendon grinned. “They’ll hate them!”  
“Better still, they’ll deliver them to us. That’s you job, you’ll put a price on their heads.”  
“And me?” Mike asked.  
“You will keep everyone in line. There’s no room for dissenters in our administration,” Beckett grinned; it all seemed so very possible.

*

“Hey?” Patrick’s voice barely rose above a whisper as he pushed open the door to Andy’s room.  
“Trick? Come in,” Andy replied as he closed his book and set it on the bedside cabinet.  
“You’re looking a lot better today,” Patrick offered a vague smile. “Are you?”

Pushing himself into a sitting position on the bed, Andy was surprised to feel Patrick helping with the pillows to make him more comfortable.

“Can you keep your speed to normal, please?” Andy’s brow creased.

Patrick exhaled noisily before turning away. Flopping down in a chair a few feet from the bed, he dropped his elbow into the table and sunk his chin and cheek into his cupped hand.

“What’s the matter, Patrick?” Andy asked gravely.  
“I’ve changed, you know I’ve changed, it wasn’t my fault. Can’t anyone accept that?”  
“We did, Patrick, that’s why you’re not locked up any more.”

Turning in the chair, Patrick was already shaking his head.

“Now, see, you say that, but it just isn’t true is it? Joe keeps telling me to stop reading his mind, you’re telling me to keep to a human speed. I’m not human any more, Andy, I’m not!”

Turning back, Patrick slumped forward resting his head on crossed arms, sighing noisily again.

“I’m actually with Joe on the mind reading thing, but I just said that because I still feel dizzy and it made me feel worse.”

Patrick rose and stared apologetically at Andy.

“The mind reading thing was an accident,” he admitted.  
“I thought you said that there was something inherent in the change that made you accept what you are?”  
“I do, I actually do,” Patrick admitted with almost an air of indifference.  
“Then why so jumpy?”  
“The change didn’t prepare me for how you guys would feel about it and perhaps more significantly, how I would feel about what you think.”  
“Go on,” Andy encouraged.  
“I can’t! Don’t you understand? I keep thinking back to how we were when Pete returned and it’s not the same!”  
“It’s not the same situation, Trick,” Andy offered.  
“But why should that matter? I’m still a vampire, I mean how do you really know you can trust me?”  
“Do you think I’d let you in here if I didn’t?” Andy smiled in reply.  
“Do you think you could stop me if you tried?” Patrick asked darkly.  
“What are you saying, Patrick? That we can’t trust you?”  
“You can, but I don’t know how you do.”  
“Well,” Andy smiled broadly as his obviously distressed friend. “You’re going to have to trust us, aren’t you?”  
Patrick laughed and nodded. “I guess. And… I’m sorry… for, you know, hitting you.”  
“I know,” Andy nodded. “Come here.”  
“Why?” Patrick asked and wandered over.  
“Here,” Andy gestured with his arms opened wide. “Hug.”  
“N…no,” Patrick shook his head nervously. “I can’t.”  
“Yes, you can.”  
“Won’t then!” Patrick grew agitated at the suggestion.  
“Okay, okay!” Andy offered a calming gesture with his hands. “How’s Pete?” he asked trying to change the subject. “He must be doing backflips now that Beckett’s dead.”  
Patrick lowered his eyes briefly. “He’s been acting really weird. Really moody and silent.”  
“How did you notice?” Andy frowned in disbelief. “Isn’t he always like that?”

Patrick allowed himself a short laugh at the comment. Andy was right, since being turned, Pete could never have been described as the bubbly type, but somehow, this was different. He couldn’t quite put his finger on why, but he knew it to be true.

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” he offered. “You get some rest.”


	2. Everyone struggles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Struggling with their own inner demons, the guys don't realise that two very real ones are plotting their revenge

“Master, I know you can hear me, at least, I hope you can. You’re not dead, I know. I don’t know what I can do, but I’m going to do everything I can to help you get back to full strength again. What he did to you was unforgivable and I’ll do anything to help you get revenge. Anything… everything. From this moment on, he can consider himself on borrowed time.”

*

“Pete?” Patrick called as he pushed the door to Pete’s room. “Are you okay?”  
“Don’t you knock any more?” Pete grumbled.  
“I called out,” Patrick snapped in return. “You’re not gonna tell me you didn’t hear me, because I won’t believe it.”  
“I heard you,” Pete scowled in return. “Doesn’t mean I wanted you to come in, does it?”  
“What is the matter with you?” Patrick frowned deeply as Pete turned away from him once more.

Patrick waited semi-patiently for a minute or two, his stare not moving from the back of Pete’s head. He was confused, very confused. Pete had finally got his revenge on Beckett for turning him. Beckett and his entire coven were dead and gone; their lives were about to get easier and simpler. Pete should be celebrating, dancing in the street, cheering, jumping for joy! Anything except what he was doing – moping miserably in his room, refusing to even speak now.

“Aren’t you even going to speak to me?” Patrick pushed.  
“Have you not got anything better to do?” Pete grumbled angrily.  
“No,” Patrick replied with feigned innocence. “I could stand here all night.”

Pete heaved a heavy sigh and finally turned to face the fledgling vampire. It was hard to stay angry with Patrick. Whether he was aware of it, or even played on it, Pete didn’t know, but Patrick was more than capable of manipulating emotions. Right now, the expression on his face conveyed naïvity and more than a suggestion that he was hurt by Pete’s behaviour. When he wanted to be, he was impressive at eliciting sympathy and coercing people into accepting the guilt he forced on them – he had been good at it as a human, but now, he was an expert.

“Stop it!” Pete snapped. “I’m not going to be drawn by you.”  
“Okay, Pete.” Patrick lowered his eyes and nodded lowly and slightly, pausing momentarily before turning to leave.  
“Every time!” Pete snapped as his friend turned. “Every fucking time you make me feel bad until I talk!”  
Patrick turned his head back to stare at Pete over his shoulder. “Are you ready?”  
“Sit down,” Pete sighed as he turned to face his friend.  
“What’s wrong, Pete?” Patrick asked again as he took a seat next to him on the small couch.

Pete drew his legs up so that his knees were pulled close to his chest and he let out a deep sigh. Gathering his thoughts as his friend stared expectantly at him.

“Everyone thinks I should be celebrating,” Pete folded his arms around his legs and shook his head slowly. “But I don’t feel like celebrating.”  
“Why?” Patrick asked gently, confused and concerned over Pete’s strange behaviour.  
“For two years I’ve been trying to get revenge for what Beckett did to me, and… now…”  
“What? He’s dead, isn’t that what you wanted?”  
“Yes, it’s what I wanted!” Pete yelled as he pushed himself from the couch. Pacing the room, his arms flailing and his movements animated and exaggerated. “Two years, Patrick! Two years I wanted to kill him and what happens? He captures me… not once, but twice! I’m chained up in his damn dungeons twice! And I have to be rescued! Twice! And I kill you, I nearly kill Andy! And in the end, who kills Beckett? Is it me? The one who’s been trying to for two years? Or is it you? A two day old vampire?”  
“Oh,” Patrick replied, quietly.  
“Yeah, ‘oh’!” Pete growled in reply. “But even now you know, you still don’t get it do you?”  
“Then tell me,” Patrick replied calmly.

Pete raised his eyes to the ceiling and screamed his frustration. He was angry, he was confused, frustrated and upset. Part of him didn’t really know why, he had what he wanted and they worked as a team. Why did it matter so much to him? But it wasn’t just that, was it? That was just the last straw.

“And here! Andy and Joe are falling over themselves to show you that they trust you! Poor Patrick! Mustn’t upset him, oh no, not poor Patrick! I get locked up for fourteen weeks and they still didn’t trust me, they probably still don’t! But you? You’re accepted faster than giving cash to a conman!”  
“So you don’t think I can be trusted?” Patrick scowled in reply.  
“It’s not about you, it’s about them!”   
“It is about me, Pete and you know it is,” Patrick got to his feet and took a few steps closer.   
“It isn’t,” Pete insisted, but his voice now took on an uncertain tone.  
“You can lie to others but you can’t lie to me, Pete, you can’t. I always know, and… even more so now.”

Pete’s shoulders dropped along with all the tension and anger in his face. What remained was a heart rendering lost expression and the beginnings of tears forming in his bloodshot eyes.

“Do you want to say what’s really on your mind? Or shall I?”  
“You don’t know,” Pete mumbled, looking down at his feet.  
“Would it help if I got angry with you? Screamed and cursed that you turned me?”  
“God damn it, Patrick!” Pete yelled irritably. “This is what I have to deal with! You… all… reasonable!”  
“Well what do you want me to do?” Patrick threw his arms up in a sign of despair.  
“What do I want?” Pete stared for half a minute, but it felt like a lifetime. “Hate me, yell at me, hit me, kill me… anything!”

Flopping down in a chair, Pete dropped his head into his waiting hands and sighed audibly.

“Anything but understand?”  
“Yeah, anything but that.”  
Patrick nodded and stepped forward. Pete looked up as Patrick approached, not seeing the heavy punch swung across his jaw sending him spinning across the floor. By the time he looked up again, Patrick had left the room.

*

“Joe, I’m serious!” Andy insisted.

Joe stared at his friend as he stood, sweating from training, his hair plastered to his forehead. He didn’t know what could possibly be so urgent. With Beckett gone, their chief source of problems was gone. The only vampire groups remaining now, rarely fought with each other unless provoked or paid to. Yes, paid to. The night of the trap, local vampire groups had been paid in blood to start fights, but normally, apart from the Dandies, they kept themselves to themselves.

“This is Patrick we’re talking about? You’re sure?”  
“Joe, there’s something wrong, I’m telling you. He practically told me he couldn’t be trusted.”  
“Well that doesn’t sound like Patrick,” Joe concluded.  
“Really? Because you’ve had so many conversations with him since he was turned?”  
“What are you saying, Andy? That Patrick’s really evil, but pretending to be good, yet he’s dropping little hints that he’s bad?”

Andy shook his head, his face screwed up in frustration as he realised that Joe had completely misunderstood what he was saying.

“No! Listen! I’m saying that despite all his insistence that he’s okay and that he’s accepted the change, I don’t think he has.”  
“Oh,” Joe replied, drying the sweat from his hair with a towel.  
“That’s really gross, Joe.”  
“I’m gonna wash it! You’re the one who stopped me training, I’m getting cold,” Joe explained.  
“Okay, so, Patrick?”  
“So, what’s the trust issue? He says we can trust him, but he feels bad or guilt that we do?”  
“Something like that,” Andy sighed. “I think Pete’s little outburst about how long we had him locked up when we went to let them out of the cage really got to him.”  
“Yeah, Pete’s got a habit of doing that, not much changes.”  
“Yeah well Trick also thinks that Pete’s grumpier than ever now. I gotta be honest, I can’t see it, so I’m guessing Pete’s upset with Patrick.”  
“Well, what can we do?” Joe shrugged. “If we lock him up he’ll think we don’t trust him, if we do nothing, the pair of them get into it?”  
“The last thing we need is two warring vampires under our roof, we have to figure out a way to handle this before it blows up.”

Joe nodded as he settled the towel around his neck. This was not something they had ever had to deal with before. It needed careful handling, but most of all it needed to be handled quickly.

*

Patrick leaned against the wall of yet another grey building; he had been walking for just over an hour and was momentarily uncertain over where he was. He had trudged through the largely empty streets with his head down, staring at the floor. Wandering aimlessly, he now found himself in what appeared to be an office district. Vaguely, in the back of his mind, he knew he had to be aware of the time and how long it would take him to return to the warehouse. Although he was aware, somehow the idea of it only seemed to make him feel more miserable. Perhaps Andy was right? Perhaps he hadn’t fully accepted this? Patrick knew he had the ability to switch off in order to concentrate on what was really important; he’d always been able to do that. Maybe, the need to escape from and defeat Beckett had provided the distraction he needed? But now? Now he was alone with his thoughts, and they weren’t happy ones.

The sound of heeled shoes pulled him from his reverie; this was the office district and it was gone eleven already, no one was still here. Slipping into the shadows provided by the unlit entrance to the building he had stopped by, he watched, being careful to make no sound. He wasn’t sure why he had reacted this way, there was outwardly nothing to suggest danger, perhaps it was just that the presence of anyone in this part of town had surprised him. He had been on too many hunts and seen too many terrible things not to be wary. And yet, somehow, there was something else, something that bombarded his senses and told him, in no uncertain terms, that he should hide. Pressing himself back against the wall, Patrick watched as three figures approached, striding confidently up the centre of the street, unworried by traffic. His eyes widened as, well lit by the street lamps, he could clearly see the three Dandies as they headed toward what he knew was the Mayor’s office building. How was it even possible? The mansion was burned to a shell, at dawn; no one could have survived. And yet, here they were, stalking the streets as confidently as they always had. Then, a thought occurred to him. The dungeons. Was it possible that they had survived the conflagration? It might explain it. But were there more? Or were these the only survivors? What did they have in mind? And why were they headed for the Mayor’s office? Was he in their pay too?

Pushing further back into the shadows, trying desperately hard not to be seen, Patrick cursed himself. Alone and unarmed, even as a vampire he would stand no chance against all three. The best he could hope for would be to get away and raise the alarm at the warehouse. In his miserable state, he had even managed to forget to bring his phone or pager. Somehow he had to warn the others and find out what Beckett was up to.

*

Ryan remained seated in the dungeon cell next to Spencer. He hadn’t moved from the spot since he had found him. Even hearing the terrified screams far above, the crackle of the flames and the torturous screaming of snapping wood and twisting metal – none of this could distract him from his silent vigil. His master needed him and he would help in whatever way he could. 

The cell was strewn with dead bodies, but no amount of human blood poured down his virtually dead throat seemed to have made a difference. Spencer never moved, never even seemed to swallow, the blood just found its own way. Ryan was oblivious to so many vampire truths, kept ignorant by Spencer himself, and yet, he was still faithful to his master, still willing to make whatever sacrifice was necessary. The time had come, he realised, to make the final sacrifice.

Cutting a deep gash in his wrist, he held his arm over Spencer’s mouth and watched the blood flow steadily past his open lips. It could have been the blood loss making him imagine it, but Ryan felt sure after a few minutes that he had seen the tiniest flicker of movement. He gasped in surprise as Spencer’s hands swung up and gripped his arm tightly before pulling the open wound close to his lips, his eyes wide yet staring unseeing at the dungeon ceiling.

“Yes!” Ryan cried out, elated by the reaction. Screwing up his face in pain as Spencer extended his fangs into his arm to drain him even faster, now that the wound was beginning to heal, Ryan held firm, not even trying to pull away. “Drink, master, save yourself.”

Ryan’s voice was fading as Spencer pulled the last few remaining drops from his arm. Pushing himself upright, not caring for a moment that he had drunk the last drop of blood from his faithful servant, Spencer looked around, finally realising where he was. Beckett’s dungeons, where he had been handed down the worst punishment a vampire could suffer. Beckett thought he was dead, or at least, as good as. But was his resurrection only to be short lived? Would Beckett not punish and condemn him to an eternity of virtual death all over again? Had Ryan given up his existence in vain? He sensed almost immediately that something was different; still hanging in the air, noticeable only to the perceptive senses of a vampire, was the scent of the fire that had consumed the mansion. Momentarily, Spencer allowed himself a sly smile at the possibility that Beckett had suffered, possibly even died in the fire, but somehow he knew he had survived. The thought of it only broadened his smile further. Revenge filled his thoughts and gladdened his dark heart. Yes, Beckett and, if he were still alive, Brendon, would feel the backlash of his vengeance. He would make them suffer as he had done: slowly, painfully and unlike him, it would be eternal. For them, there wasn’t enough suffering in the world.

*

Pete heaved a deep sigh as he heard the door open. He could tell from they sound of their feet that it was Joe and Andy. He wasn’t ready for them. He had barely even got his own head around the fact that Patrick had just floored him. His head was swirling with thoughts, none of which he wanted to discuss or even, in some cases, acknowledge. He was having a hard time coming to terms with all of this and it was just proving a little easier to deal with if he blamed someone else. So far, it had been Patrick. How much of the blame could he shift now? Well, that was easy to answer; the man who had convinced him to turn Patrick had just entered the room. Yes, it was entirely his fault. Briefly he wondered exactly what the problem was. He had to admit that he didn’t know, but he did know that it was Andy’s fault. Totally and entirely Andy’s fault.

“What?” he asked with an aggravated tone to his voice.  
“You tell us,” Joe replied flatly.

Pete leaned forward on the table, his fingers interlaced, his eyes staring almost blankly at the wall ahead. His shoulders rose and fell dramatically, indicating to all that he was not in the best of moods. They could hear his breathing as loud as an irritable sigh. If they knew what was good for them, they would leave him alone. As it turned out, they didn’t. Pete squeezed his eyes shut tightly as Andy said the one thing he really didn’t want to hear.

“So, what’s your problem with Trick?”

Raising a partially clenched fist up to his mouth, Pete considered his options. He could answer them or he could simply disappear. He was more than capable of moving so fast that they wouldn’t see him leave, but what would it achieve? He opted for his first thought. He would answer them, but they would wish he hadn’t.

“I don’t have a problem with Trick,” he turned dark angry eyes. “I have a problem with you.”

Pete would have been the first to admit that he knew he was lying, that is, if he had known what the truth actually was. He was angry, there was no doubt about it and he had partly hit upon the real problem when he admitted that Patrick’s lack of enmity towards him had thoroughly confused him.

“With us?” Andy asked calmly but with a slight edge to his tone.  
“No!” Pete finally turned and appeared suddenly only inches from Andy’s face. “Just you!”

Joe’s eyes widened as he saw the open hostility in Pete’s demeanour and that Andy’s reaction was to mirror it with an aggressive stance. They were both ready to fight and it was stupid, it was unnecessary, it was pathetic!

“No, it isn’t!” Pete argued, leaving Joe to wonder briefly if he’d said the words out loud. “He knows exactly what my problem is!”  
“Oh, I know what your problem is, all right!” Andy bristled. “And it’s got nothing to do with Patrick! It hasn’t even got anything to do with being a vampire!”

Pete wasted no time in reacting. Barely interested in hearing him out, Pete slammed his hands into Andy’s chest, propelling him back against the closed door with painful force. Momentarily dazed, Andy shook his head clear of his blurred thoughts and vision before staggering to his feet. So, Pete wanted to play dirty? He could do that too. Pulling a stake from a stylised holster behind his back, Andy propelled it into Pete’s left thigh, causing him to collapse as it weakened him. Quickly pulling the stake from his leg, Pete grimaced as his hand sizzled with pain. 

“What the fuck is that?” Pete demanded glancing at his blistered fingers. “Stakes soaked in Holy Water?”  
“I’m ready for you this time!” Andy growled back.  
“Ready for me?” Pete laughed as he launched himself high into the air, landing behind Andy ready to deliver a crushing blow.

Andy ducked low, spinning on his right foot he swept his left across Pete’s legs, knocking him flat on his back.

“Yeah,” he gloated. “I’m ready for you!”

Up on his feet in a fluid, effortless movement, Pete seized Andy’s throat and pushed him back against the far wall, squeezing to prevent him breathing, the action of being knocked back against the wall drove what little air he had out of his lungs.

“Now you tell me why I shouldn’t hate you! This is all your fault! You made me do it!”  
“He understands!” Andy choked out.  
“I know!” Pete screamed. “And that makes it a hundred times worse! If he can’t hate me, I can at least hate you!”

Sensing a slight distraction in him, Andy raised his right hand and shoved a second stake into his side, being careful to keep it low and far from his heart. Releasing his grip on Andy, Pete sank once more to his knees allowing Andy to kick him backwards to the floor as the Holy Water soaked stake weakened him further. Trying to push himself up, Pete fell back down as something pointed was jabbed into his chest. Above him, Joe stood with a long taser baton pushed against him, his finger on the switch, poised to press it.

“You know I can kill you faster than you can press that button, don’t you?”

Pete had meant it merely as an angry threat, something to help him recover some of his lost ground. He hadn’t seriously meant to threaten to kill either of them, but it was not a chance Joe was willing to take. For the third time, and again without warning, Pete was hit by a powerful jolt from the augmented taser baton. Grimacing in agony and arching his back as the powerful current surged through him, Pete finally crumpled as Joe pulled away the weapon.

“Kill you?” Andy repeated, shaken by the words.  
“I don’t think he meant it,” Joe shook his head.  
“Really?” Andy arched an eyebrow. “Is that why you toasted him again?”  
Joe shrugged. “He’s really messed up, Andy; you heard him. We need to get them on our terms, not theirs. It’s too easy for them to fight us. We can’t let this go on or we’ll all suffer for it.”  
“So,” Andy rolled his shoulders, trying to stretch out the newly formed pain between his shoulder blades. “Back in the cage?”  
“It’s all we’ve got,” Joe replied with a resigned smile.  
“Okay, but what about Patrick?”   
Joe frowned deeply. “Good point. Where is Patrick?”

*

Patrick frowned as the three Dandies separated, each going into different buildings. The office district held no difficulties for vampires. None of the buildings were dwellings. Yes, all of them were owned and people used them almost daily, many saw some people stay so late that they seemed to be there more than their own homes, but no one actually lived there. As such, if they chose to, vampires could enter freely. Even guarded buildings were no deterrent to these three and their abilities with mind control, or in Mike’s case, a delight in killing for killing’s sake. But it left Patrick with a dilemma – who to follow?

Stepping from the shadows, he decided that there really was only one alternative. If he truly wanted to know what was going on, he had to follow the one with the answers. William Beckett had entered the tall glass building and had been able to follow his progress beyond the lobby thanks to the wide expanse of windows that made up the first floor. He knew that Beckett was now out of sight, which meant that it was safe for him to enter. Even the guard seemed to remain very still as if under his control still and Patrick hoped that he would be able to enter the building unseen because of it. He need not have worried, as the guard offered no flicker of movement as he passed by the desk, following the direction that Beckett had taken.

Beyond the large double doors was a vast conference room with a large stage area. Facing the stage where two blocks of row upon row of simple, yet comfortable looking theatre-style seats. Patrick felt very isolated, unsure why Beckett would come in here, let alone where he had subsequently gone, he felt visible, uncomfortable and… watched.

Patrick’s eyes scoured the room as he edged his way inside. He seemed alone but his senses told him otherwise. The feeling of being watched began to intensify and he was overtaken by the urge to retreat. They knew he was there; this was not a battle he could win. Turning quickly, he looked up sharply as he saw Mike Carden grinning down at him, barely inches away.

“Bad decision!” Mike mocked as Patrick took a step back and bumped into Brendon, who seized his arms.

Struggling in his grip, Patrick grew ever weaker as Mike landed blow after blow. Finally, Brendon pulled his head back before rushing once more toward the doors and slamming Patrick’s forehead repeatedly against the thick teak panels.  
Slumping in his grip, Brendon allowed him to slip to the floor. Blood from various gashes clouded his vision as it leaked, unhindered into his eyes. But through the haze, Patrick made out the shape of a pair of long slender legs standing next to him.

“Trust me, my dear Patrick, you and your friends will suffer dearly for what you did to me. Very dearly.”

It was the last thing he heard before slipping into unconsciousness, sent there by a vicious kick to the back of the head delivered by Brendon, all too eager to get his own revenge.


	3. I have a prisoner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beckett begins his new regime of power and control

It was the early hours of the morning that Pete finally opened his eyes, left with a sensation of burning from the taser, every nerve ending in his body still jangled from the attack. He knew it had been his own stupid fault. Threatening Joe was never going to get a good reaction, but he overreacted. No, he sighed, he didn’t. In the same situation, he’d have done exactly the same. Pete frowned, sometimes he hated his conscious mind. All too often, it could be so… reasonable! Moving a hand slowly to his side before moving his prone form, he realised with relief that the stake in his side had been removed. He couldn’t believe Andy had attacked him with Holy Water soaked stakes. Yes, it was true that he had attacked Andy first, so he would defend himself, but to have those stakes already about his person meant that they were expecting trouble. It was that that annoyed him more than anything else. Okay, so he had been right, but that wasn’t the point. The point was he expected Pete to give him trouble. So he expected trouble, he would give him trouble!

Finally pushing himself from the floor and expecting to find himself still in his own room, Pete was furious to discover that he was once again locked in the cage – if only for the fact that he was alone. Patrick wasn’t locked up with him. Oh no! Patrick was forgiven, Patrick was trusted. And here he was… again. 

“Well, I got out of here once, I can do it again,” he muttered irritably to himself. 

Lowering his shoulder, Pete stepped back ready to ram the door. Edging back a little further, all the hairs on his neck and arms stood on end.

“Huh?” he gasped as a chill seemed to run through him.

Standing upright once more, Pete gingerly extended a hand towards the bars. Even as much as twelve inches from the bars, he could feel the crackling of the increased current running through the bars. Moving his hand closer towards one of the bars, an arc of blue light rose between his fingers and the bars before connecting with his extended arm. The flash of blue filled the cage and sent Pete spiralling backwards. Even after he dropped, still shaking to the floor, the pained scream was still dying on his lips and a second sound, a siren, filled the room and very possibly the entire warehouse. By the time he looked up once more, the siren had been shut off and Joe and Andy stood three feet from the cage behind a painted yellow line.

“What did you do to it?” Pete grumbled unhappily as he fought the urge to count his limbs to make sure they were all intact.  
“Patrick increased the current,” Joe replied calmly. “He said he understood better now what would hold a vampire and what wouldn’t.”  
“Yeah?” Pete turned an acerbic frown towards his friend. “Well, tell him it works.”

Joe frowned at the words, which drew an instant curious reaction from Pete. Surely that it worked was a good thing? Why the frown?

“Do you know where Patrick is?” Joe asked.  
Pete glanced around theatrically. “I know he’s trusted enough to not be in here with me!”

Joe sighed heavily and he and Andy exchanged concerned glances.

“What? You expect me to be happy about this? You expect me to just accept that after fourteen weeks of being locked up and proving myself to you on hundreds of occasions since then – here I am again! I’m locked up and Patrick’s free to do whatever he wants!”  
“You don’t understand…” Andy began, only to be interrupted.  
“Your damn right I don’t!”  
“Patrick’s missing!” Joe yelled.

Pete’s brow furrowed and he shook his head.

“We had a row, he’s probably gone for a walk to cool down.”  
“It’s an hour until sunrise and he’s not back!” Joe yelled back at him, calming as he saw Pete’s reaction give away that he had no idea how late it was. “You have a connection with him, don’t you know where he is?”

Pete concentrated, closing his eyes he reached out with his mind. His brows knit as he repeatedly drew a blank.

“I can’t find him,” he finally replied, his voice edged with concern. “Maybe it’s the current… blocking me?”

Joe looked at Andy who returned the uncertain expression.

“Look, get the fucking taser if you don’t trust me! Just turn off the current, I can’t sense him, don’t you understand?” Pete yelled. 

Without leaving the room for the taser, Joe shut off the power to the cage and Pete once more closed his eyes trying to find his friend. Frequently he felt as though he was almost within reach but something was blocking him. 

One more try, he thought to himself. One last determined effort to reach Patrick. But already he knew that something was wrong. There was no way, even if he were still angry with him, that Patrick knew how to block Pete’s mental link with him. 

Pete’s eyes flew open in horror as in his mind he heard mocking laughter and could suddenly picture Patrick lying on the floor of a darkned room, unconscious, beaten and bloody. Suddenly lifted from his feet, Pete was propelled backwards slamming into the bars of the cage at a ferocious speed, all the while the laughter echoing in his mind.

“Prepare yourself for suffering beyond your limited imagination. Tell Joseph he’s first.” A voice sounded clearly in his mind as he slid to the floor, his eyes closed once more.

Already he could hear the door to the cage opening and Andy and Joe rushing to his side. Feeling himself being propped up on someone’s lap, Pete finally opened his eyes and looked up at Andy’s concerned face. Rolling his head to the side, he realised that Joe was supporting him. 

“Did you see him?” Andy asked urgently. “Is he okay? Where is he?”  
“He’s in trouble, he’s been attacked.”  
“Who’s going to attack a vampire? We’re the last hunter group in town,” Joe commented.  
“Another vampire?” Andy offered.  
“Beckett,” Pete cut in hoarsely.  
“But he’s dead,” Andy replied, his brow furrowed.  
“No,” Pete shook his head as he pushed himself up out of Joe’s lap. “I don’t know how but he survived and he’s got Patrick and… Joe… he said he was going to make you suffer first.”  
“Me?” Joe frowned deeply. “Oh God! Andrea!”  
“Where is she?” Andy asked, his eyes wide.  
“She went back home, she needed a good night’s sleep. She has to see if she’s still got a job to go to tomorrow. Who’s going to believe a story of being held prisoner by a vampire?”  
“Joe, only people who walk around with their eyes shut don’t realise there are vampires here,” Pete replied kindly.  
“I got to go to her, make sure she’s okay,” Joe was already on his feet and heading for the door.  
“Joe,” Pete had followed in an instant and pulled his shoulder back so they faced each other. “Call her first.”

Joe nodded, reaching for his phone, he dialled quickly and waited impatiently.

“Hello?” came a sleepy voice over the phone.  
“Andrea?”   
“Joe?” she asked, hardly believing he could be calling her so early. “Do you know what time it is?” she asked turning the clock towards her. “It’s just after five, Joe!”  
“Andrea,” Joe began, “I don’t know how to say this. Beckett’s alive and I think he’s targeted you.”  
“Beckett?” she replied suddenly awake. “Are you serious?”

Over the phone, Joe heard the doorbell ring and heard a repeated rap on Andrea’s front door.

“Don’t answer it!” he cried. “If you don’t invite them in they can’t hurt you.”  
“It might not be them,” Andrea replied, yawning. “And like you say, if I don’t invite them in…”  
“Don’t answer it!” Joe cried.  
“Andrea,” Pete spoke urgently, having snatched the phone from Joe. “You know Beckett can make you invite him in, he’s controlled you before.”  
“Pete?” Andrea replied surprised by the change of voice. “You’re worrying over nothing!”  
“He’s already got Patrick! I’m not worrying over nothing! He’s…”  
“It’s stopped,” Andrea announced. “Whoever it was has gone.”

Joe snatched the phone back from Pete and held it to his ear.

“Andrea, you’re coming back here. Pack a bag, as much as you need, you…”  
“Wait a minute, Joe!” Andrea interrupted. “We agreed that I would keep my apartment and my job, if they’ll still have me…”  
“Andrea! Don’t you understand? Beckett’s out to get you, all of us!”  
“And he’ll destroy us much faster if we give in to him,” she replied.  
“We’re coming to pick you up,” Pete shouted, even though Joe still held the phone.  
“Tell him that’s doubtful, given the time and I’m not going anywhere except to work.”  
“Andrea, please!” Joe begged, worried for her safety.  
“I have an hour before my alarm goes off, Joe, and I’m going to spend that time sleeping. Goodbye!”  
“An…”  
“Goodbye, Joe.”

Joe stared at the phone, as he listened to the dialling tone. He knew she was independent, but this was taking things too far! Risking her life wasn’t something he was comfortable with.

“She hung up,” Joe frowned miserably.  
“We’ll follow her tomorrow, Joe,” Andy placed a comforting arm around Joe’s shoulder. “We’ll make sure she’s okay.”  
“And in the meantime,” Pete sighed, “we have to find out what Beckett’s up to and where he is.”

Joe nodded distractedly. All that effort to rid the world of William Beckett and his Coven and it simply hadn’t been enough. He had Patrick and was going after Andrea. Worse still, she wasn’t taking the threat seriously. He would make her see, bring her home, protect her.

Pete glanced uneasily at Joe. He was so frightened for his beloved Andrea.

“Patrick is the priority,” he announced, staring at Joe and Andy for confirmation.  
“Yeah… yeah, of course,” Joe replied frowning at the words.  
“Just remember that,” Pete warned. “Patrick is the priority.”  
“You think I’m going to get so wrapped up in…”  
“Yeah, I do,” Pete replied honestly. “And I think you know it too.”

Joe paused for a few moments and chewed on his lower lip. He understood Pete’s concern, but if he had to be honest, his priorites had changed and Andrea was one of them.

“I know my priorities, Pete.”  
“Good,” Pete nodded. “Provided they’re the same as ours, it won’t be a problem, will it?”  
“I know my priorities!” Joe shouted as the tension in the room grew thick. “Now are you going back in there, or do I need the taser?”

Pete’s lips curled into a near snarl. Was Joe seriously asking him to go back into the cage?

“All right, Trohman, I’ll go back in, but you had better have a damn good reason for keeping me locked up! And it had better not be to keep me out the way so you can go after Andrea!”  
“I told you…”  
“Andy,” Pete began as he stepped back into the cage and watched Joe swiftly lock him inside. “I think you need to watch over Joe too. He needs to stay objective and he isn’t.”

Pulling the switch, the current that ran through the cage fired to life and did its best to keep Pete captive within the cage.

“I don’t think he’s considered everything, somehow. A little too much in love!” Pete’s eyes drooped as he said the words, he could feel sunrise approaching.  
“I think we all need some sleep,” Andy commented.

*

“Mayor Roberts,” Beckett grinned baring his fangs in a feigned cheerful greeting. “It’s been a long time.”

Two men stood in the doorway, one in his late forties, tall and stocky with what was left of his hair greying at the ends. He carried himself with authority right up until the moment his eyes fell on the room’s only occupant. Accompanying him was an equally tall and thin man, barely in his mid-twenties. His air suggested no nonsense and career and social climber with ambition. Beckett liked ambition; it tasted rich.

The Mayor and his young aide both stared, wide-eyed with shock at the sight of the tall, slender vampire seated in the Mayor’s office some two hours after dawn. Mayor Roberts recognised him immediately, it was hardly surprising, as he had obtained his position largely through Beckett’s intervention. Opposition candidates had frequently stepped down or even gone missing only to turn up months later, burnt almost to the point of being unrecognisable. Of course, it had been necessary; burning was the only satisfactory way to hide the telltale bite marks and lack of blood. The Chief of Police had declared their deaths accidental or murder by persons unknown. But of course, the Chief himself was also in Beckett’s pocket and he now lay dead, dumped by Brendon in the basement of his own house. It seemed a safe enough option; he lived alone, who would find him? Who would even look for him?

Only the Mayor’s aide had no clue as to the identity of the strange man who had breached the security surrounding the Mayor. He didn’t recognise him, but then, he had never seen or met him. Neither would he as within moments of arriving, he made the biggest and last mistake of his life. Reaching up to open the blinds, the aide didn’t even see Beckett leave the desk chair but he was on him in an instant. Grabbing the aide’s hair with his right hand, Beckett curled his arm around the man’s right arm and gripped the back of his jacket. Pulling his body forward but his head back, exposing his neck, Beckett spared a fleeting cruel grin for the Mayor before opening wide and sinking his fangs deep into the young man’s throat. Pulling back, his mouth still closed, he tore a deep gash as the man writhed in agony beneath him. Raising his head once more, the vampire laughed harshly as Mayor Roberts visibly paled and swung away, eyes tightly closed and hand clamped firmly over his mouth. The tearing at his throat was meant as a visual deterrent, a warning not to disobey, but now open Beckett leaned over the young man with pleasure gleaming in his eyes as he cupped his mouth over the gaping wound as sounds of pain and desperate cries were reduced to mere gurgling and bubbling of rising blood. A surprisingly little amount flowed down his chin, dripping onto the carpet as the aide sagged, near death in his grip. Using the man’s own shirt to wipe his chin and hands before dropping him, Beckett grinned with sadistic pleasure at the sight of the Mayor, still turned away, clutching his stomach and mouth and trying hard to wipe the horrific sight from his memory.

“I don’t usually eat so late,” Beckett chuckled callously as he licked his lips. “But everyone likes a late-night snack sometimes.”  
“You evil bastard!” The Mayor choked out still unable to turn around.  
“And your point is?” Beckett shrugged as he examined his nails distractedly.  
“I thought you were dead!”  
“You know, Chief Callum said exactly the same thing before I killed him. He did not taste good,” Beckett added, relishing the look of horror and distaste on Roberts’ face.

Slowly, deliberately, Beckett rounded the desk again, once more taking a seat in the comfortable leather recliner and settling back.

“Why did you kill him?” the Mayor choked out as he followed him to the desk, trying to avoid glancing at the lifeless body of his young aide. “The Chief, I mean.”  
“I have a new man in mind,” Beckett played with a pencil before looking the Mayor in the eyes to gauge his reaction. “My Second, Brendon.”  
“You want that psychopath as the Chief of Police?” 

The words were out of his mouth before he even realised what he was saying and more importantly, to whom he was saying it. Beckett offered a broad grin in reply as he leaned back, extending his long slender legs, finally settling them on the edge of the desk.

“I’ll tell him you said that,” his eyes twinkled wickedly as he turned the pencil in his fingers.  
“No!” Mayor Roberts waved his hands urgently in front of him. “No, Master Beckett, please! He’ll kill me!”  
“Indeed he will,” Beckett nodded thoughtfully. “But I do already have someone to take over your position.”  
“No, Master Beckett, please, I can be useful to you.”  
“Yes,” Beckett swung his legs down from the desk and leaned forward. “And you can start now. Two of my Coven are downstairs… sleeping. I want a secure area where all of us can rest during the day and go completely undisturbed. Or, my immoral friend, you will find me disturbing you and…” Beckett’s gaze drifted meaningfully to fall on the Mayor’s aide now lying dead on the floor before turning back. “Trust me, you won’t enjoy it one little bit.”  
“O… of course,” Roberts nodded. “Consider it done.”  
“Good,” Beckett nodded. “You can escort me, I’m growing tired myself. Also, correct me if I’m wrong, you have a small vault here, is that right.”  
“Yes, Master, it’s not used often, just for documents in transit.”  
“How big is it?”   
“Not very big, Master, just four feet square.”

Beckett’s smile broadened its widest yet as he pictured it used to house Patrick, crammed into that tiny space, unable to stand, or stretch out in any direction.

“Empty it and remove any shelves, I want it ready by sundown,” he sneered at the idea. “I have a prisoner.”


	4. I have expensive taste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beckett finds temporary accommodation and Andrea goes back to work

Andrea was tired. The call from Joe had disturbed her more than just physically. So much so that she had found it impossible to get beck to sleep again. Instead, she lay with her eyes wide-open waiting for a single sleepy feeling that didn’t come.

“Damn you, Joe! Why did you have to scare me like that?” she sighed, pushing the covers away. Rising thirty minutes before her alarm was due to go off , she slammed an angry hand down onto the alarm’s off switch, as she headed to the shower. She didn’t understand why she couldn’t sleep; it wasn’t even that she wasn’t tired. If the truth were known, she was exhausted. She had had far more excitement in her life than she was used to and way more than she wanted. For the first time in her life, she was hiding her head in the sand – if she couldn’t see it, it wasn’t real and what Joe had told her definitely wasn’t real.

One good thing had come out of her recent ordeal and that was Joe, but even that presented its own problems. Firstly, the very thought of him reminded her of all the trauma she had suffered lately, which contrasted sharply with the depth of feeling she felt for him. In this rare moment of reflection, she had time to really consider how she felt and she could honestly say she was confused. She knew, without even thinking about it that if he were there, she would happily sink into his arms and never move from his side. But he wasn’t there and she was allowing herself to have doubts, especially now she had discovered that Beckett had survived.

Joe had already told her that Beckett had probably targeted her and she was worried for more than one reason. She didn’t want to die, but more than that, she didn’t want Joe to either. Joe would risk his life for her and very possibly the lives of the others too. How could she let that happen? But how could she not be with him? It was too confusing and it would have to wait. Through the steamed glass walls of the shower, the clock showed her that all he pondering had made her late. Now she would have to hurry. It would help stop her thinking about this impossible situation though; perhaps it wasn’t a bad thing? 

With her thoughts racing, she was heading out of the door on her way to work at roughly the same time the Mayor’s aide was being murdered.

*

Beckett entered the lower basement, escorted by Mayor Roberts and looked around with distaste. The room was large, secure and, thankfully, dry. But the bare brick walls and stacks of dusty old and broken furniture lining the walls were a far cry from his opulent mansion. With a deep scowl, Beckett summed up his feelings easily.

“This will have to do for today, but you will find something more appropriate for me for tomorrow.”   
“If you want something here, this is all we have,” Mayor Roberts replied flatly.

The words were barely out of his mouth before he was pressed up against the wall, grimacing with pain as Beckett’s fangs pierced his neck. Blood trickled from the puncture wounds as the vampire pulled back.

“That’s how it feels initially, then I bite hard and you feel excruciating pain and a terrible sinking feeling as I drain you and your heart stops. But for you, I’d make an exception, I’d take half your blood and watch you slowly bleed to death. I haven’t had much to laugh about lately.”  
“M… Master… I…” Roberts stammered.  
“I know you’re not used to people giving you orders, but allow me to let you in on a secret – I am your master and you will do everything and anything I say and not only will you do it, you’ll do it with a smile on your face. Do you know why?”  
“Because you’re my master,” Roberts whispered in reply.  
“Yes, but what else?”  
“You’ll kill me?” he whimpered as Beckett bared his fangs, still stained with the Mayor’s blood.  
Nodding slowly, Beckett allowed a slow, broad, malevolent grin to form. “And how will I kill you?”  
“Slowly.”   
“And?”  
“I… I don’t…”

Beckett squeezed his fingers either side of Robert’s left shoulder. The sudden aching sensation was debilitating with nerve pain shooting down both his arm and across his chest. Mayor Roberts felt something pop inside his shoulder and he screamed in agony and his knees buckled.

“If you hadn’t worked it out yet,” Beckett laughed as he allowed the man to drop at his feet. “That was a clue.”  
“Painfully?” he gasped.  
“Correct,” Beckett replied dryly. “Now, I’m going to sleep. You either find me something suitable for tomorrow or you have men working through the night to make this eyesore fit for habitation. And let me tell you now, in case you weren’t sure, I have expensive taste.”  
“I’ll have everything you need ready for you, just as you ask,” Roberts gasped through the pain, cradling his rapidly numbing shoulder.  
“I don’t ask, Roberts. I order and you obey. Remember that. Your life depends upon it.”

*

Andy lay in his bed with his eyes wide open. All he could think about were Pete’s words and, if that weren’t enough, Joe’s actions. The more he thought about it, the more he realised that Pete was right. Joe wasn’t being objective. He wasn’t even thinking about Patrick at all. Pete had discovered that Patrick had been captured by Beckett and was hell bent on revenge. Yet how did he react? Did he try to establish Patrick’s whereabouts? Did he release Pete so that the three of them could track him down and rescue him? No, he had only been interested in his girlfriend. He hadn’t even mentioned Patrick. Well, not that he remembered anyway. Pete was right, Joe had become a liability. Andrea had given him a whole new set of priorities and Andy could only conclude that Joe no longer had the group’s best interests at heart. The added complication that Andrea was stubborn and independent wasn’t helping at all, it was certain to make Joe worry all the more. He frowned deeply. He still felt ill and unusually tired, but he was still recovering from the drugs that Simon, the doctor he had believed to be a friend, had pumped into him. Added to that the shock of discovering that Simon had been working voluntarily for Beckett, it was no small wonder that Andy was up and about at all.

He was exhausted. He could have slept for a week without waking once, but that luxury was way beyond his reach. Throwing back the covers, Andy climbed out of bed and pulled on a pair of jeans. Stepping out into the corridor, he knew immediately that something was wrong. Andy had an eye for detail and he knew instantly that the doors were not as he remembered seeing them on his way to his room. Someone had moved some of them. 

“Joe?” he called tentatively, receiving no reply. 

Pushing open the door to Joe’s room, he was unsurprised to see both his bed and the room empty.

“Damn it Joe!” he muttered under his breath. “What’s got into you?”

The slightest scraping sound behind him drew his attention and he turned quickly, concerned that someone may be behind him. Again, nothing. It was frustrating; he knew that Joe was somewhere nearby, but couldn’t figure out exactly where. Of course, it was only his best guess, but he sincerely hoped it was Joe.

Along the corridor on the right, the movement of a flashlight caught his eye. It was either an intruder of some sort or Joe moving suspiciously and stealthily around the warehouse. Unwillingly, Andy’s mind was drawn back to Brendon’s statement that Joe was a traitor. Dismissing the idea immediately, or at least trying to, Andy found the doubts lingering. It wasn’t something he wanted to think about, but could it explain his behaviour?

Andy almost cursed himself loudly. Beckett and his Coven would laugh loud and long if they could hear his thoughts. They weren’t even near. The majority didn’t even exist any more and yet they were managing to tear apart the only group of hunters that had kept them contained. He wouldn’t allow it!

“Joe!” he called. “Andrea’s important to you, so she’s important to me too! But so is Patrick. We have to find a way to keep them both safe. Are you with me?”

After a long pause, Joe emerged from the room further down the corridor. Switching off the flashlight, he stared doubtfully at Andy.

“Do you mean that?” he asked with uncertainty.  
“If we don’t work together on this and I really mean together, we might as well surrender to Beckett now,” Andy replied with an angry and defiant tone.  
“I’m sorry,” Joe nodded, lowering his eyes.  
“Me too,” Andy replied with a heavy sigh. “Now then…” Andy paused to take Joe’s proffered hand for a firm shake. “Let’s fix this and kill that bastard once and for all!”

*

More than a few eyebrows were raised when Andrea walked to her desk. Looking awkwardly around, she felt self-conscious as she noted all eyes were on here. The open plan room was buzzing with whispers and the occasional low chuckle. Andrea understood the whispering, even though she didn’t like it, but the laughter confused her.

“Andrea!” a voice at her side drew her attention. Before she even had a chance to turn, a pair of arms wrapped around her.  
“Erin… hi!” Andrea stumbled over her greeting, being somewhat taken aback by the enthusiastic welcome. 

Erin was a year or two older than Andrea, but could easily pass for younger; slightly shorter than Andrea, Erin’s shoulder-length dark blonde hair fell in spiral curls framing her elfin face. Erin didn’t even have to smile to look happy, her eyes seemed to permanently laugh and sparkle. She had always been bubbly and cheerful and even her high-pressure, stressful career hadn’t dulled her passion for life.

“Where have you been? I’ve been calling and calling! I even dropped by on my way into work today, I rang your bell, but there was no answer. Although… it was very early.”  
“That was you?” Andrea sighed with relief. “Sorry I didn’t answer, I was on the phone to my…” she paused as she realised she’d never actually said the word in relation to Joe.  
“Your what?” Erin prompted as her friend paused too long.  
“My… boyfriend.”  
“Your boyfriend!” Erin grinned. “Well, this is news! I guess now we know where you’ve been for the last few days!”  
“No… it wasn’t like that…” Andrea tried to explain. “I’ll tell you over lunch. Now… why did you call at my house so early? How long have you been here?”  
“Yeah, I got here at six. You know what it’s like on Marketing at campaign time; I’ve got so much to do! But you know, I still wasn’t the first here, there was already someone here to see…”  
“Miss Logan!” a loud clipped voice rang out from the other end of the floor. “My office, now!”

Andrea’s heart sank. Mr Taylor, he manager, wasn’t often the most sympathetic of men and today, it seemed that he was in a particularly irritable mood.

“Good luck,” Erin tapped her on the arm encouragingly.  
“Thanks, looks like I’m going to need it.”  
“I said now, Miss Logan,” Taylor snapped before turning sharply and heading back into his office.

Heading down the long corridor, the whole office sat in hushed apprehensiveness. Andrea had been working there a little over three years and they all knew her. They also knew she had disappeared for several days with no word. None of them wanted to think what would happen to her but given Mr Taylor’s temper, it seemed that she would be fired. Offered small smiles of good luck as she passed by, Andrea headed into her manager’s office and closed the door.

“So,” he began, “looking up from his chair, refusing, at first, to allow Andrea to sit. “You came back.”  
“Yes, Sir,” she replied quietly. “Can I explain?”  
“Oh, yes!” he snapped back. “You’re definitely going to explain yourself. And then, I’m going to fire you.”  
“Then there’s not much point if you’ve already decided, is there.”  
“Sit down!” he yelled. “Where have you been? We’re in the middle of the re-election campaign and you decide to take a few days off without a word? What was it? Shopping? Seen a nice pair of shoes you had to have?”  
“I was kidnapped!” Andrea snapped back, halting Taylor’s rant in an instant.  
“Well,” he finally recovered his flow, “of all the lies I was expecting, that wasn’t one of them.”  
“I’m not lying and I’m not sitting here to be called a liar, either!” she retorted getting to her feet.  
“Sit down! I’m not finished with you yet! If you were kidnapped, where’s the police report?” 

Andrea looked down, uncertain who she could have reported it to, knowing as she did after having seen him on the night of the guys’ capture, that even the Chief of Police himself was in Beckett’s pay.

“There isn’t one,” she sighed.  
“No, I didn’t think there would be. Now, tell me the truth,” he growled angrily.  
“I told you, I was kidnapped.”  
“Who by?”  
“A vampire,” she admitted, waiting for the storm that followed.  
“A vampire! Don’t be ridiculous!”  
“You’re surely not suggesting that they don’t exist?” she frowned her irritation.  
“Vampires bite, they don’t kidnap.”  
“This one did. He… he liked me.”  
“Garbage! Tell me, how did you get away from this imaginary vampire who liked you?”

Andrea’s eyes narrowed noticeably; she couldn’t understand why she didn’t just leave the office. Perhaps her experience had changed her, knocked her confidence perhaps? Whatever the problem, she felt the need to justify herself.

“My boyfriend and his friends rescued me and burnt down his house.”  
“Burnt down his house?” Taylor asked quietly. “When was this?”  
“Tuesday night.”

Taylor frowned; staring thoughtfully for a few moments.

“Go back to your desk,” he nodded. “Quite a lot has happened this week. Mayor Roberts has had quite a large donation to the campaign, I need you to organise some press opportunities for him.”  
“Go back to my desk? What? Suddenly you believe me?” Andrea was amazed at the sudden change.  
“No, I don’t, of course not,” he replied in an almost civil tone. “But we’re busy and I need everyone on board.”

Rising from the desk, Andrea was still angry to have basically been called a liar, but she needed her job and felt relieved to have kept it. It was always a high-pressure job in Press Office for the Mayor, but it was a satisfying one. It had been the sudden change in his attitude that had surprised her. It had left her feeling that there was something she ought to know, something that she needed to know. But perhaps now was not the time to push the matter.

Heading back to her desk, Andrea sighed as she saw the paperwork stacked in her in tray and another pile alongside. Somehow, it didn’t seem likely that she would be leaving until late that night.

*

Handcuffed at his wrists and ankles, Patrick wasn’t going anywhere. Yes, he was fast – much faster than a typical newborn vampire, but he wasn’t exceptionally strong. That usually came with age, or as in Pete’s case, drinking the blood of an elder vampire. Even as the sun was rising, he was awake and struggling. Still aching from the beating with severely bruised, if not broken, ribs, Patrick was finding it difficult to summon the energy to try to break free, but he knew he didn’t have much of a choice. While chained up in the cage at the warehouse, he had been unable to snap the links, but he was hopeful that with the handcuff chain being thinner, that he stood a chance.

Straining, Patrick gasped in elation and exhaustion as finally one of the links snapped. Reaching down to his ankles, Patrick almost passed out with the pain of the movement. Pushing himself back, he gasped for breath as he tried to make the pain subside. Breathing was no longer necessary. 

As a vampire, many things were different, or at least should have been. Patrick had spent all his life breathing, it was unlikely he would be able to stop suddenly, just because he didn’t have to. It had been something he noticed that Pete still did, although, very occasionally he did stop for prolonged periods. Unwilling to give up any of his humanity, Pete would force himself to begin again as soon as he realised.  
With Patrick, there was no noble reason, no torment, just habit. 

Leaning back, he pulled up his ankles so that he could easily reach them. But it was already too late.

“Resourceful, aren’t you?” came a familiar voice that commanded Patrick’s attention.  
Looking up, Patrick saw Beckett, flanked by Brendon and Mike. “But you won’t get away from me this time, my dear Patrick. I have something special for you. Something very special.”

Brendon and Mike removed the remains of the handcuffs from around Patrick’s wrists and ankles. As a display of their strength, they broke the cuffs around his wrists using only the slightest pressure from their fingertips. Their strength for exceeded his own. Patrick felt how they wanted him to feel – helpless.

Picked up with both Mike and Brendon taking one of his arms, Patrick was pulled from the room and dragged down yet another flight of stairs to the vault room. Inside stood a large vault that took up almost the entire back wall and looked as though would look quite at home in a bank. The other was much smaller, Patrick noted, maybe four feet square. It was only when Beckett opened the door and Patrick saw that it was completely empty that he realised what was about to happen.

Now struggling furiously despite his pain, Patrick found himself dragged closer and closer toward the small vault. Trying desperately to mentally contact Pete, Patrick was frustrated only to have Beckett’s condescending laughter ringing in his ears instead. Finally forced inside the cramped space, Patrick thumped the now closed door, knowing it was no use.

“Let me out of here!” Patrick yelled angrily, knowing without thinking that it was a pointless demand.

He had been Beckett’s prisoner before, but somehow this felt different. This felt final.


	5. The words you’re looking for Pete are 'I’m sorry'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pete surprises Joe and Spencer surprises Pete

Pete was already awake when Andy and Joe returned to the cage. He was pacing out small circles, so fast that the pair grew instantly dizzy just watching him. Something told them that something was wrong, and immediately they drew the conclusion that Patrick was in more trouble than they previously realised. An additional pang of concern hit Joe. He knew that Beckett had targeted him to suffer first and it seemed most likely that he would do so through Andrea.

“What now?” Pete growled stopping his incessant pacing and approaching the bars as close as he dared.  
“You seem… agitated,” Andy observed with a concerned edge to his tone. “Are you all right?”

Pete exhaled loudly with an exclamation of scorn. Shaking his head in disbelief, he paused for a few moments before replying in a vain attempt to keep his anger in check.

“Am I all right?” he snapped, having to physically restrain himself from rushing forward. “How can you even ask that with a straight face? My best friend has been beaten to a pulp by Beckett who’s only keeping him alive to torment me!” Turning his harsh glare to Joe, he continued his tirade. “You’re only interested in your girlfriend and you’re keeping me locked up so I can’t stop you! And you!” he added, looking at Andy. “You’re allowing it!”

Andy lowered his eyes. He would have liked to have tried to protest, but deep down he knew that Pete was right. The trauma they had all suffered over the past few days had caught up with them and made them all behave somewhat out of character. They had become insular and aggressive towards each other. Perhaps it stemmed from not being able to vent their anger and fear fully, perhaps they just needed more time to recover, but it was time they wouldn’t get. Beckett had survived. After all their hard work and struggle, he had escaped the flames that were supposed to consume him. Worse still, he wasn’t the only one. Now they were all left feeling bitter and angry and lashing out at each other had become the norm. Andy had been the first to see that it had to stop. Thankfully Joe had agreed, but would Pete?

“We know things haven’t… we’ve all been… we’ve got to pull it together,” Andy finally managed. “For Patrick’s sake… and Andrea,” he added after a brief pause and a deep frown from Joe.  
“So, he did get to you?” Pete huffed in response, shaking his head with a disapproving scowl firmly fixed on his face.  
“No,” Andy corrected him firmly. “I saw his point of view.”  
“Oh, well maybe you should explain it to me, because I don’t get how he can suddenly just abandon his friend just because he’s getting some!”  
“Hey!” Joe yelled angrily, rushing forward only to be held back by Andy.  
“Stop it! Both of you!” Andy yelled, shoving Joe back behind the line. Pointing at Pete, he continued: “You! Just listen for once in your life! And you!” he snapped turning toward the still seething Joe. “You calm down! What did you think you were doing then? You were just going to electrocute yourself!”

Joe shrugged, looking away, angry and impatient.

“Pete,” Andy sighed. “Andrea is important to Joe and…”  
“Yeah? So is Patrick!”  
“Shut up, Pete! Listen! Just listen to me! Andrea’s one of us now, and we look after our own. Joe was worried we wouldn’t see it like that, so, she became his priority because he didn’t think she’d be anyone else’s. It’s not that he doesn’t care about Patrick, just that he knew that he would automatically be a priority, but…”  
“Okay, okay!” Pete sighed. “I get it, but if there was a conflict or he had to choose…”  
“That’s not a fair question, Pete,” Andy interrupted.  
“What’s fair got to do with anything?”  
"Fuck you, Wentz! I've already had to choose once!" Joe screamed, furious to be verbally assaulted again. "And I chose to haul your sorry ass out of Beckett's dungeons after you tried to kill the best friend you say you care so much about! I had to leave Andrea behind to save the one person who's questioning my loyalty!"  
"Joe!" Andy cried, surprised at the venom in his friend's tone. Gripping Joe's arms, Andy squeezed them reassuringly. "Joe, calm down."  
"No!" Joe pushed Andy's hands away. "I won't calm down! I'm sick to death of him making out that he's the only one who cares about Patrick! We all do! He wants to try caring about us for a change!"  
"Care about you? How often do I have to save your life before you get it through your thick skull that I do care!" Pete stopped suddenly and sighed, all the aggression suddenly dissolving. "I do care," he added in a calm, quiet voice.

Andy sighed, hoping he was about to do the right thing.

“Joe,” he said quietly with a meaningful nod.

Moving away to the wall, Joe flipped the switch that controlled the electric current to the cage. Instantly the prickling of the hairs on Pete’s arms ceased and he cocked an eyebrow first at Andy then Joe.

“You’re letting me out?” he asked with uncertainty.

Andy nodded as Joe returned, pulling the key from his pocket.

“We’ve all been secretive, blinkered and at each other’s throats since the mansion burnt down. Too many things have happened to upset us all. We haven’t had time to readjust and we’re not going to get that time… not yet, anyway. Beckett’s alive. He’s alive and he’s got Patrick and there’s a good chance he’s going after Andrea. We have to find him and protect her. We have to get over whatever petty issues we’ve got and fix this!”

Pete watched anxiously as Joe turned the key in the lock and opened the cage door.

“Do you trust me?” Pete asked not moving from where he stood.  
“Of course we…”  
“You locked me up! I don’t accept of course!”  
“We were wrong,” Joe added. “I was wrong. I’m sorry. We do trust you.”

Pete nodded gravely and stepped from the cage.

“But you were wrong too, Pete,” Joe added. “About me.”  
Pete nodded. “I know.”  
“The words you’re looking for Pete are _I’m sorry_ ,” Joe prompted.  
“No,” Pete closed his eyes briefly, to Joe’s initial annoyance. “I’m actually looking for something a lot more expressive than that, but in the meantime, I hope it’s enough?”  
“Yeah,” Joe replied, staggered by Pete’s unexpected admission.

Watching as Pete walked out of the cage and headed toward the training area, Andy turned to Joe, both of them still astounded.

“Make the most of it,” Andy advised. “That won’t happen every day.”

*

Spencer stood outside the warehouse at a reasonable distance. Close enough to get a good view, far enough to be undetectable to the casual observer. But, one of the warehouse’s occupants was far from being a casual observer.

“Now the last I remember of you, your master wasn’t all that pleased with you,” Pete almost laughed as he surprised Spencer by appearing at his side.

Recovering his wits after spinning quickly around, amazed at Pete’s stealth, Spencer tried to regain some lost ground by frowning with deep scorn and distaste at the young vampire.

“I don’t have a master,” he snapped back. “I never did!”  
“Well now,” Pete flashed a broad smile. “We both know that isn’t true. You sucked up to Beckett for years.”  
“I bided my time,” Spencer argued with a bitter edge to his voice.  
“And then he killed you,” Pete smirked.  
“Do I look dead?” Spencer snapped, gesturing towards himself.  
“Yeah, you do!” Pete beamed. “You look really haggard and drained. If I had to bet money, I’d say Beckett left you for dead and you’re still not far off now. Who’d you eat, Spence? Whoever it was, he wasn’t substantial. I got past your defences way too easily. You’re a sitting duck, Spencer. I could kill you myself.”

Spencer glanced up at Pete. Seeing something he never expected to see, Spencer allowed his lips to be drawn into a thin smile.

“But you won’t, will you Pete?” he commented with unnerving confidence. Laughing at his next statement, Spencer revelled in the fact that he had just found Pete’s weakness. “You want something entirely different… don’t you?”

*

Patrick shifted awkwardly inside the vault. It had looked much bigger on the outside but the thickness of the walls and door had reduced the size of the interior dramatically. Hunched over, Patrick was relieved that his damaged ribs were starting to heal. He wanted to curse his own stupidity for going after Beckett without backup or even letting his friends and fellow hunters know where he was. Every attempt to contact Pete had been blocked by Beckett; it seemed to him that the act of blocking his thoughts was so second nature to the vampire leader that he didn't even need to think about it. Very probably it meant that no amount of distance or distractions would divert Beckett from preventing him contacting Pete. He could only hope he was wrong. Slamming his balled fist against the door, Patrick screamed his frustration, which only increased as his thoughts were interrupted by taunting laughter.

_Don’t imagine you’ll ever leave that vault, Patrick._

The words sounded loudly in his head, so much so, that he could almost picture Beckett’s gloating expression.

_You will witness the downfall of all your friends. One will die, one will wish he had and the other will wish he could and then you, my dear, Patrick, will spend eternity at the bottom of the ocean, still trapped inside that tiny vault. You will starve and slowly go insane and the knowledge of all that brings a smile to my face every time I think about it._

“You thought you’d finished us last time, Beckett!” Patrick yelled defiantly. “You didn’t then and you won’t this time either!”

The silence that followed was possibly even more frustrating than the laughter he had already endured. It simply meant that Beckett didn’t consider him a threat. Not him, not any of them. Normally, Patrick would be geared up to show him how wrong he was, but try as he might to resist the feeling, something told him that, this time, Beckett was very much in control.

*

Spencer leaned back against a tree, it’s trunk old and wide enough to hide him, had he felt it necessary. It was only then that Pete realized that Spencer wasn’t hiding. He had kept far enough away in order to avoid the attention of any human, but, Pete soon realised, had wanted his attention.

Eyeing Spencer with deep mistrust, Pete noticed that he had the look on his face of a man who could happily resort to blackmail but the young vampire was certain that there was nothing he could know that should worry him.

"What do you think you know?" Pete snapped scornfully.  
"Are you sure you want to hear the words? You don't seem ready to me."  
"Whatever it is you think you know, you're wrong!" Pete insisted, forcefully shoving Spencer backwards, only to watch him trip and fall to the floor.

Lying on the floor, Spencer used his elbows to raise himself up a little. Bending his knees for additional comfort, Spencer gave an arrogant laugh as he stared up at the furious vampire standing over him.

"If you say so, Wentz," he chuckled his obvious disbelief, much to Pete's annoyance and frustration.  
"Get up!" Pete yelled, dragging the still weak Spencer to his feet.

It was a simple matter to drag him back to his feet. Although still strong enough to fight and kill a typical human, Spencer would have struggled to fight Andy or Joe and, despite feeding on Ryan and two humans, against Pete’s greater strength, he was still almost defenseless.

"I've got a proposal for you," Spencer said hurriedly as Pete began to drag him towards the warehouse.  
"And I've got a cage for you!" Pete snapped in return, almost delighting in the idea that someone other than himself would be securely locked up in Patrick’s creation.  
"Let me go and listen to me or I'll tell your hunter friends about your new found taste for human blood."

Pete stopped dead in his tracks, turning quickly his expression one of worry and concern.

"You don't really want them to find out, do you?" Spencer goaded.  
"M… My what?" Pete tried to manage a harsh tone and a convincing mocking attitude, but all of his bravado was suddenly gone.  
“Yes!” Spencer grinned as the pair stopped walking towards the warehouse and he shook free of Pete’s grip. “You’re taste for human blood. It’s on you like a sickness!”  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Pete snapped. “No one’s going to… They won’t believe you… I…”  
“You know they will, Wentz,” Spencer grinned. “You know they will. You’ll end up in that cage you fear so much. I can sense it on you… heavy like a thunder-cloud. You’re terrified.”  
“What of?” Pete replied stiffly, still trying hard to deny his recently developed addiction to human blood.  
“I can only sense two humans,” Spencer ignored the question. “Kill Patrick did you? Blame someone else? You drank his blood, Wentz, I can smell it on you!”  
“Shut up!” Pete screamed in frustration. “I don’t want human blood!”  
Spencer grinned. “I believe you don’t want it, but you can’t stop thinking about it, can you?”  
“Shut up!” Pete yelled again drawing up his fist and driving it at force into Spencer’s lower abdomen,

Dropping like a stone to his knees, Spencer began to laugh between coughs.

“You’ve had human blood and now,” he grinned, “there’s no going back. You must know that by now.”  
“They’ll figure something out… again,” Pete sighed quietly. “This won’t… I won’t be controlled by this!” Pete insisted. “Or you!” he yelled, turning to land a quiet vicious kick in Spencer’s abdomen. Watching him gasp and curl up, Pete finally forced a smile; he would not be controlled by Spencer. None of them would.

*

Beckett preened himself, delighting in the new wardrobe of clothes that Mayor Roberts had _thoughtfully_ provided him with. Of all of the designs, styles and fabrics in the wide selection of clothes, Beckett had chosen a simple white shirt, silver cravat and a dark grey, classically lined suit with an Edwardian-style jacket that skimmed across his slender hips with an elegant fluidity. The silver-grey jacket lining almost shone in the dimly lit room that he knew, by dawn, would be redecorated, furnished and habitable. As he looked around the stark, bare room, his anger bubbled up once more. He thought about his beloved home, where he had lived since he was a boy, barring a short forty year break, when he had lived with his master until he had been killed by hunters. Now it was all gone: his home, his clothes, his car, his coven, but most of all, his status. And it was all Patrick’s fault, Patrick and his hunter friends. They would all suffer. He smirked to himself, two of them, he felt certain, were already suffering, but now it was time to work on his plans. The Chief Judge was about to become breakfast – a small detail he had not divulged to the Mayor. Some things, he had decided, were better left unsaid.

Slipping on a pair of highly polished Italian leather shoes, Beckett reached down to tie two smart bows with the laces, before pulling on a close fitting dark grey leather glove, enjoying the feel of the soft leather, he gently stroked the back of his gloved hand before slipping on the other.

“Master William?” Brendon’s voice disturbed his dressing ritual.

As he turned his head, he saw his second in the doorway, kneeling low on one leg with his head bowed. Smiling appreciatively, Beckett was secretly relieved that the serious depletion of his coven hadn’t affected Brendon in the same way it had Michael. Brendon was a good second: loyal, ruthless and cruel.

“Brendon,” Beckett called with a wave of his hand to indicate that he should rise.  
“William,” Brendon grinned as he rose.  
“I was going to ask you if the mayor has gathered everyone, ready for our meeting, but I feel you have something to tell me,” Beckett cocked his head slightly to the right as he tried to figure out what had pleased Brendon so much.  
“Yes, Master,” Brendon replied, clearly delighting in something.  
“Well?” Beckett’s smile widened; Brendon’s enthusiasm was contagious.  
“I don’t know whether to tell you, or let you sense it yourself,” Brendon’s wicked smile broadened as he hinted at something that Beckett would want to be aware of.  
“Someone is here to attack us?” Beckett frowned causing Brendon’s smile to wane momentarily.  
“Oh, no, Master, this is something I’m sure you’ll like.”

Brendon’s broad smile returned as he watched Beckett widen his senses to take in the whole building. The sudden widening of Beckett’s eyes and the corners of his mouth turning up once more were Brendon’s signal to nod slowly.

“You found her?” Brendon asked slyly.  
“I certainly have,” Beckett chuckled to himself. “She works here?”  
“Yes,” Brendon was beside himself with joy, acting almost as if he had planned the whole thing. “I probed her mind,” Brendon began again. “Gently,” he added firmly, “she is totally unaware of me… all of us. She wants to keep her normal life,” he laughed. “She should have thought about that before getting involved with Trohman.”

Beckett closed his eyes briefly as he mulled the options in his mind.

“It looks as though my revenge on Joseph will come sooner than I imagined. Bring her to me, Brendon. And… don’t break her. Well,” he laughed, “not much, she’s a delicate little thing, you know.”

Brendon nodded enthusiastically and turned on his heels to head upstairs. Selecting two silk ties from the array of clothes hanging nearby, Beckett smirked to himself.

“It’s all just become so much easier,” he laughed, pulling on the ties to test their strength. “Yes, these will do nicely. My meeting will just have to wait a few minutes”


	6. Breakfast meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beckett and Brendon torture Andrea then have a breakfast meeting

Brendon allowed himself a sly smile; he simply couldn’t wait until she saw him. The anticipation of the look of terror in her pretty green eyes almost made him salivate. She would certainly recognise him; although she hadn’t seen him at the mansion, he had been the one threatening her beloved Joe outside the warehouse only hours before Patrick had razed the mansion to the ground. As he thought about it, the only thing that kept his smile intact was knowing that Patrick was securely locked inside the cramped vault awaiting an eternity of starvation and, in all probability, madness.

As he made his way through the corridors, her scent grew strong and his nostrils flared as he stopped one door away from her department. Quietly opening the door, Brendon smirked cruelly as he saw her. She was seated, almost slumped at her desk, the work piled high to her left. It was already seven o’clock; if she wanted to finish it, it would be at least another two hours. Checking her watch, she sighed again – she wanted to see Joe, to apologise for her behaviour that morning. She had been stressed and his words scared her, more even than she wanted to admit to herself. Her daydream was interrupted suddenly by the phone ringing. Smiling vaguely, she hoped desperately that it was Joe and as, unknown to her, Brendon watched from just inside the door, Andrea answered the phone.

“Andrea Logan,” she tried to sound professional and ready for anything, but she was tired, really tired and it would have to do.  
“Andrea?”  
“Oh Joe! I’m so glad you called!”  
“Baby, you sound exhausted, why are you still there? Are you okay?”  
“Joe,” she sighed softly at his caring, worried tone. “I’m fine.”  
“What are you still doing there? I thought you’d have been here hours ago… certainly before it got dark.”  
“Joe, I’m sorry I snapped at you this morning, I guess I didn’t want to believe it. After everything that’s happened, I just wanted to believe it was over.”  
“I understand, baby, but you have to realise the danger you’re in. They’ve got Patrick, we’ve been trying to figure out where he…”  
“Patrick! Seriously?”  
“I told you, this morning when I called.”  
“Joe, it was five o’clock, I was barely awake.”  
“Look, I’m coming to get you,” Joe sighed. “Wait there, you should be safe there.”

She felt something cold and soft brush lightly against her cheek and seemingly from nowhere the words.

“She’s far from safe, Joe!” Brendon laughed into the phone.

Andrea screamed, partly from the threat and partly from the surprise of it all. Pushing her chair back away from her desk and dropping the phone, she gazed around quickly, trying hard to find the source of the words.

“Andrea! Oh, God no!” Joe screamed down the phone as he recognised Brendon’s voice. “Get out of there!”

It was night-time and Joe knew that even if she managed to flee the building, if they wanted her, she was easy prey, but, so far away, it was all he could think of. There was nothing he could do to help her and it tore him apart.

“Pete!” he yelled, still clutching the phone to his ear in the hope that they had both imagined it, or that he was just scaring her and no more. “Pete! Get your ass in here!” he screamed.

Distracted immediately by a distant scream from Andrea and the sound of the dial tone as receiver was placed back on the cradle.

“What’s wrong?” Pete arrived first, closely followed by Andy.  
“Brendon’s got Andrea! He’s in her office, she doesn’t stand a chance against him!”

Pete nodded; immediately his demeanour changed and his expression hardened. Despite his earlier words about Joe’s caring for Andrea over Patrick, he still saw one of his friends suffering at their hands and he didn’t like it. There was, of course, the fact that finding Brendon would ultimately lead them to Patrick.

“Let’s go,” he replied gruffly.

*

“So,” Brendon’s dark eyes twinkled as he smelled Andrea’s fear. “You know you can’t escape me, so all this running you’re doing, it’s only going to tire you out. Don’t you want to look good for William?”  
“No,” she replied, breathy and scared, “I want you to leave me the hell alone!”

Trying not to lose sight of Brendon, Andrea looked desperately around, searching for something – anything – she could use as a stake. But in the hi-tech office, there was nothing, nothing at all.

Brendon smiled and nodded as he slapped his hand on his chest.

“If it were me, my decision,” he shrugged before continuing conversationally, “I’d just kill you. You’re really not my type. I don’t know what either William or Joe see in you personally and I certainly don’t know what you see in Joe! Must be the Florence Nightingale Effect, I mean, you did save his life.”

Rushing forward so fast as to suddenly appear at Andrea’s side, he played with her hair, gripping it as she screamed in shock.

“What a shame he couldn’t save you?”

Trying desperately to pull away, Andrea fought against Brendon, who only laughed at her for her efforts. Finally grabbing her wrist and holding it so firmly to the point that her hand went numb, Andrea was dragged from the office, fighting and screaming as she was pulled unwillingly to Beckett’s new temporary home.

Led into the recently decorated basement room that still smelled of paint, Andrea cried out in shock and pain as Brendon spun her around and threw her to the floor. Pushing herself up until she was sitting, she cradled her still painful and possibly broken wrist. Immediately in front of her, perhaps only two feet away at most were a pair of long slender legs, immaculately dressed in a smart Italian suit. Not able to bring herself to look up, Andrea kept her mind firmly fixed on Joe, praying she would see him again.

“You’re not pleased to see me?” Beckett asked with mock hurt in his tone.

Visibly trembling, partly with fear, partly with the effort of not crying, Andrea continued to look down. She had been independent and strong, but too many things had happened to her, too many times she’d stared death in the face. It seemed likely, that this time, death would take her. At least, considering the options of death and being turned into a vampire, she hoped it would be death.

Beckett reached down and, placing a finger under her chin, raised her head to look at him. Immediately she pulled away and looked down again.

“Brendon,” Beckett spoke, his voice dulled with anger.

Stepping forward, Brendon grabbed a handful of Andrea’s hair and forced her head back until she looked directly at Beckett. He smiled as he saw the fear in her eyes, the pallor in her skin and noted her erratic breathing.

“Well now,” Beckett’s smile widened to almost seem kindly meant, “your hunter friends have caused me so problems. My home is gone, my Coven, my rank. I’d say that entitled me to some revenge, wouldn’t you?”  
“No!” she spat, finding reserves of strength she didn’t know she had. “You deserve to die!”

Seizing her blouse and dragging her to her feet, Beckett slammed her viciously into the nearest wall.

“You forget, my dear,” he snarled. “I am dead, and very soon, you will be too!”

Andrea’s eyes widened in horror, moments before Beckett threw her to the floor once more.

“Here,” Beckett handed two silk ties to Brendon. “Tie her up.”

Brendon smirked with pleasure, but he knew it was likely he’d have to rein himself in.

“How tight?” he asked.

Beckett glanced down at the terrified woman and nodded as he looked up once more to speak to his second.

“As you like,” he replied, settling in a chair to watch.

Pushing Andrea face down onto the floor, Brendon sat astride her to limit her annoying and futile struggles. Pulling her hands behind her back, Brendon wrapped one of the ties around her already painful wrists and pulled it unimaginably tight. Screaming in agony as she felt at least two of the bones in her wrist dislodge and dislocate, Andrea gasped for breath as the pain coursed through her.

“Tight enough for you?” Brendon asked without response. “No? Okay then.”

Another firm tug on the ends of the tie caused a sickening cracking sound as her left wrist broke in several places. Almost passed out with the pain, Andrea barely noticed Brendon securing her hands with a double knot before moving onto her ankles. The first loop of silk pulled around her ankles ground her bones together in a sickeningly painful move. A laugh from her tormentor told her that he was enjoying her pain and glad to be the one inflicting it.

“Brendon,” Beckett interrupted, with an equally amused tone. “Are you sure that’s tight enough?”  
“Maybe not, after all,” Brendon leaned down to whisper, “we don’t want you getting away do we?”

Gripping the ends, Brendon pulled the ties tighter still, stretching them thin as he did. As he did, both of Andrea’s ankles shattered as if hit by a mallet. The surge of pain drove her instantly into unconsciousness, carried there by Brendon’s laughter. Securing the knot, Brendon stood up.

“Well, I don’t think she’s going anywhere.”  
“No,” Beckett grinned. “Now then, I imagine the others are on their way here to find her.”  
“And we capture them?” Brendon grinned.  
“No,” Beckett shook his head. “I want them to suffer much more than that. I want Joseph to fret over his girlfriend before mourning her loss, I want Andrew to see the team fall apart, before I kill him and I want to see Peter struggle with his human blood addiction.”  
“You’re sure he’ll have that?” Brendon asked.  
Beckett nodded and smiled cruelly. “You saw how quickly and easily he ate Simon. Oh, yes, he’s struggling with it as we speak.”  
“Good!” Brendon snapped. “You’re right, why should we make this quick for them?”  
“Now then, come with me, we have a meeting to go to.”  
“You mean, a buffet?”  
Beckett grinned. “My dear Brendon, I hope you have an appetite.”

*

“Can’t you make this thing go any faster?” Joe demanded.  
“I have to stay within the speed limit, Joe,” Andy replied calmly. “You know half the police belong to Beckett. If we get arrested, we won’t be helping anyone!”  
“You’d go faster if it was Patrick!” Joe complained bitterly.

Andy gritted his teeth. The accusation was harsh, but, in reality, it may well have been true. How would he feel if the call had come from Patrick? No, Joe was right, he would be speeding and instantly he felt ashamed that he had not reacted in the same way.

“And the faster we find Brendon, the faster we’ll find Patrick,” Pete grumbled from the back seat.  
“You’re both right,” Andy nodded as he pressed harder on the pedal.

Joe sighed with relief as the car tore through a set of traffic lights just as they were turning yellow. No sooner were they through than a blue light filled the rear view mirror and the sound of a siren wailed in their ears. Andy sighed his annoyance.

“I’m sorry, Andy,” Joe almost whispered.  
“I’m not angry with you,” he replied through a clenched jaw as he looked behind at the approaching patrol car.

“Keep going!” Pete ordered from the back seat.  
“You mean…” Andy began, astonished at the idea.  
“I mean keep going! They’re vampires! They don’t want us for speeding, they just want us. They know this car.”  
“Yeah, well,” Joe turned to look behind him. “Whose genius idea was it to paint a giant bat on the hood?”  
“They’d know it anyway,” Pete scowled, “from the licence plate.”  
“What’s up with you?” Joe asked, suddenly concerned for an entirely different reason.

On the back seat, Pete sat, hugging his right knee, his face looked very pale and drawn. In the occasional light shed by streetlights, Joe could see that Pete’s eyes seemed sunken and dull and he appeared to be shaking.

“Nothing,” he growled back. “Just concentrate on losing those cops.”  
“Don’t you think I’m trying?” Andy snapped in return.

At the words, the rear door nearest Pete opened briefly and he was gone.

“What the hell!” Andy cried, trying to look behind him and keep his eyes on the road at the same time.

In the mirror, he saw Pete crouched menacingly on top of the hood of the patrol car following them. Almost immediately, he was smashing the windscreen and turning the wheel to force them off the road.

“Should we stop?” Andy turned to Joe, the crashed police car almost out of sight.  
“He did it so we’d get away didn’t he?” Joe urged Andy to keep going. “Put your foot down and get us there!”

Behind them, now a long way back, Pete was thrown from the crashed car, partly raised from the floor as it had kept moving despite hitting and almost flattening the street sign. Lying on his back, partly dazed, Pete looked up to see the two vampire police officers approaching, their dark eyes intent on revenge. The veins almost stood out against Pete’s now desperately pale skin. Would this work? Would drinking second hand human blood sate his deep thirst? There was really only one way to find out and as vicious as they seemed and even outnumbered, they would soon realise that it was they that didn’t stand a chance.

*

Beckett and Brendon walked with an air of total superiority, as if on a mission from which nothing and no one could deter them. In many ways, it was true. Beckett had made plans, in depth and far-reaching plans, some of which had already been achieved. Capturing Patrick so early had been an unexpected, yet welcome, bonus. But now he wanted to push forward and he would allow nothing to stand in his way.

Approaching the conference room, Beckett smiled thinly to see Mike Carden waiting somewhat impatiently outside the door. As soon as the younger vampire saw him, however, he stood to attention. Still clearly frightened by Beckett’s earlier threats, Mike now did what he could to ingratiate himself back into Beckett’s favour.

“They’re still in there, I take it?” Beckett asked.  
“Yes, Master William,” Mike nodded, obviously relieved that the pair had finally arrived. “Judge Collins tried to leave about ten minutes ago, but I convinced him to stay.”  
“May I ask, how?” Beckett asked wickedly.  
Mike grinned in reply and ran his tongue across his fangs. “Just reminded him that you wouldn’t be very pleased if he left so rudely.”  
“So true,” Beckett grinned. “After all, we didn’t order our food to go. Did we? Are you both certain you know what to do?”  
“Oh yes,” Brendon replied eagerly, licking his lips as he did.  
“Definitely, Master,” Mike almost salivated at the words.  
“Very well, let’s eat.”

Opening the door, Mike stood back to allow Beckett and Brendon to enter first. It still galled him that even after Beckett had left him for dead without even a thought of assistance, that he was forced back into his old position, subservient to both of them. But at the same time, he knew that greater success was likely to come if he stayed loyal to Beckett. The options were slim. As a Dandy, he would be universally hated amongst the vampire community; to be on his own would be a dangerous proposition for him.

But all of this fled his mind as the scent of human blood filled his nostrils with its rich, warm, sweet and coppery aroma. Inside the conference room, at the far end of the table were sat possibly the most powerful three men in the state: Mayor Roberts, Chief Judge Collins and Governor Reed. Beckett regarded each of them coolly. He rarely found his own food, in the past he had had people to do that for him, so this was almost a new experience for him. Still, it wasn’t as if he had to chase it down, it was sitting there, waiting patiently to be plucked and eaten like a ripe peach. But it wasn’t enough. In the same way humans might add condiments, a sauce or gravy to their food, he wanted that extra little bit of spice. That special flavour that could only come with fear. Fixing his eyes on the youngest of the group, the man he had himself managed to place in power, Judge Collins, Beckett drew his lips into a broad yet menacing smile, his fangs fully extended.

“Wh…what’s going on?” the Mayor stammered, rising to his feet.

Slowly, unwilling to believe what they were seeing, the Governor and Judge rose to their feet also, glancing nervously at each other.

“You’ve heard of breakfast meetings?” Beckett asked, his gaze almost burning through them.

More nervous glances followed, finally with the realisation that this was not simply a discussion about Beckett’s continued influence. It was now clear to them that influence was no longer enough for Beckett and what remained of his coven. He wanted more, unimaginably more.

“Well,” Beckett continued, undeterred by the silence that met his first question. “You’re breakfast.”

Pressing the Governor up against the wall, Brendon smiled broadly at the terror in the man’s eyes, made all the wider and horrified by the sight of Mike feeding noisily and greedily from the Mayor, already slumped and unable to support his own weight.

“No finesse,” Brendon commented. “Now then, look at Master William, he hasn’t even moved, he doesn’t need to. See?”

Beckett was staring intently at his prey, who in turn was whimpering at his inability to stop himself taking one small step after another towards Beckett.

“Please! Master Beckett, no! Haven’t we done everything you asked us to?”  
“Why does everyone assume I’m asking?” he remarked to no one in particular. It was a rhetorical question, but Brendon provided the answer anyway.  
“Because, Master William, humans still foolishly believe that they’re in charge, that they can trust us.”

Governor Reed gasped as Beckett sank his long, razor sharp fangs into Judge Collins’ neck and listened to his agonising scream as Beckett tore purposefully, but almost casually at his flesh.

“Because,” Brendon continued as he turned his gazed back to the man still pinned against the wall, “because they may be corrupt, but they don’t realise what evil truly is.”

It was the last thing he heard before Brendon sliced through his skin with an almost reckless disregard for the man’s suffering. As the blood poured into the cruel young vampire’s mouth, the added sweetness of the man’s fear caused his eyes to roll in their sockets. A blissful, powerful feeling swept over him as all other thoughts were briefly wiped from his mind.

*

Patrick almost fell forward against the vault door as he felt a sudden release in his mind. It felt as though a gag had suddenly been removed and he could speak again.

 _“Pete!”_ his mind cried out instantly.  
_“Patrick?”_  
_“I don’t know how long I’ve got, Beckett must be distracted. I’m locked in a small vault in the basement of the Mayor’s Offices!"_

Wiping his mouth, the two police officers lying dead at his feet, Pete nodded to himself.

_“I’m on my way.”_

Pete had panicked when he realised that he was no longer able to stomach the blend that Patrick had originally devised for him. He knew now that drinking Patrick’s blood had been the start of was fast becoming a full-blown addiction. He had tried hard to continue with the blend but it had rarely remained inside him for more than a few minutes. With Andy and Joe only feet away, he had swiftly learned the meaning of restraint, but it was, quite literally, killing him. His leaping from the car to challenge the chasing police officers was less about heroics and more about a potential meal, but it had served both purposes. But Joe had seen him, had seen how ill and desperate he looked. If he were to even try to keep this a secret, he would have to be more careful, much more careful. If he didn’t, he suspected that a stake might soon find his heart.


	7. Help me, Patrick… please help me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joe and Andy try to help Andrea and Pete has a worrying confession for Patrick

“Feel better?” A mocking voice sounded behind him.

Pete turned, frowning; his eyes not even trying to disguise the contempt with which he held the owner.

“It won’t last, you know… and, you do know, don’t you, Wentz?”  
“Fuck off, Spencer,” Pete pushed him back out of the way while he looked around to get his bearings. “I’m not interested in your opinion.”

Spencer laughed as Pete headed for the patrol car, checking it over quickly to see if it was still functional.

“It’s not an opinion and you know it,” he replied flatly.

Brushing the broken glass off the driver’s seat and forcing out what remained of the windshield, Pete climbed inside only to sigh in irritation as he glanced to his right as he noticed Spencer already sitting alongside him in the passenger seat – uninvited and unwelcome.

“Get out!” he yelled harshly, extending his arm to shove at the older vampire.  
“I’m not going anywhere,” Spencer snapped back, batting away Pete’s arm with surprising ease. “You’re not the only one who has a score to settle with Beckett, you know!”

Pete pulled sharply out into traffic, not even bothering to look. Even despite the late hour, he heard the screech of brakes behind him as he took to the road, smirking to himself that nobody dared sound their horn at a patrol car – certainly not in this town, not if they valued their lives. Setting off at almost twice the speed allowable by the limit, he headed to the office district.

“Just stay out of my way,” he finally growled at Spencer as he pulled the seatbelt across his body, fastening it carefully.  
“Stay out of your way!” Spencer replied with a sinister chuckle. “Listen to me, Wentz, the only reason you have a problem with Beckett is because of your pathetic sense of melodrama!” Changing his voice to a higher pitched whine, he continued: “Poor you! Turned into a vampire against your will.” Dropping his voice several tones back to his normal voice, he took on a harsher, angry edge. “Well, boo hoo! Do you think anyone jumps up and down and shouts ‘Hey! Bite me! Bite me!’? But you know what? Most of us… no, strike that… everyone except you simply accepts it, embraces it, enjoys it. We don’t walk around whining and crying! You have no reason for revenge! Beckett made you strong with his special treatment of you, you should be thanking him!”

As Spencer continued his tirade, Pete’s fingers curled tighter and tighter around the steering wheel. His knuckles white, jaw tightly clenched and his dark eyes glowering with fury. If there was one thing of which he was certain, it was that he did not appreciate Spencer’s lecture.

“Me?” Spencer continued. “I was left for dead, condemned to an eternity without blood, unable to move, unable to do anything but think and eventually go mad with hunger. Beckett tried to destroy me and now, I want the same for him, but I’m going to make sure no one can ever rescue him. You! The only reason you’re still rejecting what you are is your continued pathetic refusal to drink human blood, but that’s all changing now isn’t it?” he turned a sly glance towards Pete, now rigid and reddening with anger. “You’re addicted now,” he laughed again. “There’s no going back, it’s only a matter of time before you lose yourself completely.”

Without a hint of a warning, Pete slammed both feet hard on the brake, bringing the car to a screeching and skidding halt bumping up onto the sidewalk and almost turning over as it hit. Thrown forward, despite being prepared for the sudden stop, Pete suffered a minor burn from the seatbelt, but it paled into insignificance as his mouth curled up in vengeful delight as he watched Spencer propelled at great speed through the missing windshield. Relishing watching him bounce and roll down the centre of the road into oncoming traffic, Pete threw the car into reverse, before rejoining the road and continuing his journey.

“I feel better now I’ve lost you completely,” he muttered to himself angrily, resisting the temptation to contact Patrick in case Beckett had regained control of his thoughts. The very last thing he wanted was to give away his approach.

*

“Wait!” Andy shouted as he pulled up outside the Mayor’s office and Joe was already outside the car and heading for the door.  
“Wait for what?” Joe turned on his friend. “Wait for what, Andy?” he snapped.  
“Me,” came the quiet reply.  
“Oh!” Joe felt foolish and mean. “Sorry.”  
“Yeah.” Andy sighed heavily. “S’ok, I actually do understand, you know. Come on, let’s find her, but carefully, yeah?”

*

“Master,” Mike addressed Beckett as he wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. “The hunters are nearby.”

Beckett mused thoughtfully over his words before finally nodding, his decision made.

“Brendon,” he paused briefly, “I don’t want them realising, at least for the moment, that we live here. Move the girl somewhere they’ll find her easily enough.”  
“William?” Brendon frowned.

It felt deeply wrong to question his master, but more so again to free the human. But one glance at Beckett’s cruel smirk told him that he had never intended for it to be so simple a job for them.

“I sense your concern, my dear, Brendon and you needn’t be so worried. Before you leave the girl, I want you to drain her within an inch of her life.”  
Brendon remained frowning. “You don’t want her dead?”

Beckett smiled to himself. For all his brutality and sadistic tendencies, Brendon had a lot to learn about pure cruelty.

“No, my friend,” Beckett shook his head. “Tell me, what is the best way to hurt a human emotionally?”  
“Take something they love away,” Brendon replied immediately, his tone filled with absolute certainty.  
“No,” Beckett smiled, for the moment happy to be Brendon’s teacher again. “You’re close, so close. And you’re right, that would definitely hurt them, but there is something even crueller.”  
“What?” Brendon asked, stepping forward, keen to hear the wisest of words from the master of cruelty and ruthlessness.

Beckett allowed a slow smile to spread across his face.

“Joseph adores Miss Logan, does he not?”  
“Yes… but…”

Beckett held his hand up, instantly silencing Brendon as he went on to explain:

“Joseph wants nothing more than to have his beloved returned to him safe and sound. If he were to find her dead, he would be angry, upset, defiant… in short, he would mourn and vow revenge.”

Brendon stared back; still puzzled and uncertain where all this was leading.

“But what if he finds her at deaths door? What if he has a choice to make? Allow Peter to turn her and risking her turning evil or slowly watching her die?”

Brendon looked up, staring into his master’s eyes, filled with the wicked gleam only found when an idea is truly understood and appreciated.

“Whatever decision he makes, he’s torn apart!” Brendon stood in awe and appreciation of his master’s truly evil intention. By bringing Andrea to the verge of death, whatever outcome could only hurt Joe and whatever he chose, it would be, could only be, his decision.  
“Destroy him, Brendon.” Beckett gloated triumphantly. “Make him wish he was dead. Who knows, maybe we’ll get our wish?”  
“Yes, master!” Brendon replied enthusiastically before setting off back to where they had left her; he himself wishing that he had seen the potential for harm.  
“Michael,” Beckett smiled in malicious satisfaction. “We will set out our new administration to bring down the hunters.”

*

“Whatever you do,” Pete advised, “keep your mind on anything except me. I can get you out of here, but not if they come looking.”

Inside the vault, Patrick concentrated hard on trying to find a weakness in the door, to stretch within the confines of the tiny space, to try to contact Pete, to curse Beckett… in fact anything and everything that he had been doing prior to Pete’s arrival. It was imperative that Beckett, Brendon and Mike remained in the dark and didn’t even suspect that he might be there. It would be too hard to keep the illusion going for more than the few minutes it would take for Beckett to realise he was being tricked. Pete would have to hurry if he were to stand the remotest chance of freeing Patrick.

*

“Where does she work?” Andy whispered as they crept otherwise silently through the halls.  
“She’s in the Press Office, but I don’t know where that is.”

Andy could tell from the sound of Joe’s voice that he was stressed, terrified and fearing the worst, but the most he could realistically do was to comfort his friend and try his hardest to help.

“We’ll start at the first floor and work our way up. We’ll search everywhere, if she’s here, Joe, we’ll find her,” he nodded to emphasise his intention to help Joe no matter what.  
“Should we split up?” Joe asked somewhat nervously. “We could cover twice as much ground.”

Andy drew his lips into a thin line. If Andrea were still in the building, he too feared the worst. But, realistically, it was also possible that Brendon was still nearby, using Andrea as bait to lure the hunters. It was simply too dangerous to allow Joe to roam the building on his own. His reckless desire to find Andrea may well blind him to some very real dangers. Of course, the other possibility, possibly even more likely but equally terrible – Joe might find Andrea, badly hurt or worse. What if she was a vampire, waiting for them? On his own was certainly not the way to go.

“I think it’s best we stay together,” Andy placed a hand on Joe’s arm. “If there’s any danger, we should face it together.”  
Joe nodded, swallowing hard, aware of Andy’s probably reasoning, but glad that he had kept it to himself. “Makes sense,” he agreed.

Almost twenty minutes and eight floors later, Joe turned to Andy and shook his head.

“I don’t know if we’ve even reached her department yet! I should know this!”  
“Why?” Andy asked, astonished by the statement.  
“I’m… I’m her… I should know!”  
“Joe, she didn’t tell you and you’ve never been here, why would you know?”  
“Look, Andy, even I know I’m not making sense! Just ignore me. Come on, let’s try the next floor.”

They knew instantly that they had arrived at the right floor when they saw the upturned desks and the masses of paper strewn about the floor.

“This is it… she…”  
“Joe.”  
“She was all alone here when Brendon found her. She must have been terrified!”  
“Joe,” Andy repeated, his voice filled with pain.

Without any more hesitation, Andy began dragging Joe in the direction that led to Andrea’s bruised and bloodied form, lying face down, still bound. It took only the sight of her for Joe to race forward, pulling away from Andy’s hold on his arm and dropping at her side.

“Andy! Help me!” Joe cried as he struggled with the knots binding her wrists and ankles.

Barely able to see through the wall of tears forming in his eyes, he worked frantically, but found himself getting nowhere.

“Andrea, baby!” he cried, almost choking as he spoke. “Please wake up!”

Turning her over and propping her up on his lap, he finally spotted the two puncture wounds on her neck, realising immediately that her extreme pallor and coldness to the touch were Brendon’s doing. Tying her up had been a shock. Did he really need to? Couldn’t he have overpowered her without that? Was it merely to torture her? He looked with distaste at the massive bruising around her wrists and ankles and knew immediately that it had been done before he drained her. If it had been after, there wouldn’t have been enough blood left for bruises.

“Andrea,” he whispered.  
“Joe, she’s still alive, we need to get her out of here, now!”

Joe was frozen, staring down at the pale, cold skin he adored, at the closed eyes that were once so full of life.

“Joe!” Andy yelled. “We have to get her to the hospital!”

Joe stared up blankly. It was almost as if he were resigned to her fate, but Andy recognised it as shock – pure and simple. Joe was too terrified of losing her to register Andy’s words.

“Bring her!” he ordered, hoping that Joe would simply follow orders, smiling with relief as Joe scooped her up in his arms without even a questioning glance.

*

A sharp violent twist on the handle was all it took to break the lock on the small vault, but Pete had psyched himself up for it. It was possible he’d only get one chance at it before Beckett realised what was happening and he had invested all his strength into the single move. In an instant the vault door swung open and Patrick was tumbling forward, desperate to get out of the cramped prison.

“Come on,” Pete ordered urgently.

Realistically, Patrick was in no fit state to race after his friend in a bid for freedom, but he had little choice. Stiff, sore and hungry, Patrick reeled from the shock of being able to move again, but knew that the luxury of a reaction would have to wait. Racing after Pete as he headed out of the building, Patrick was barely coherent, simply acting on instinct. Four floors above them, the escape attempt suddenly registered on Beckett’s internal radar. Keeping himself linked to Patrick to block his efforts to contact Pete for help, Beckett suddenly became aware that the young vampire was free of the vault. Looking through Patrick’s eyes, he could see one of the corridors, he could see…

“Peter!” Beckett suddenly yelled, his voice dripping with venom and hatred.  
“Here?” Mike quizzed the sudden reaction.  
“He’s freed Patrick!” Beckett fumed. “Find them!” he screamed manhandling Mike and shoving him towards the door.

As Mike ran through the door, he encountered Brendon returning from depositing Andrea back near her desk.

“What’s going on?” he asked urgently, stopping Mike in his tracks.  
“Wentz!” Mike explained simply. “He’s freed Stump. We have to stop them!”  
“Where are they?” Brendon asked hurriedly.  
“I don’t know!” Mike replied as he dragged Brendon along with him. “Master William saw them… sensed them… I don’t know!”  
_“Return to me,”_ a calm voice sounded in both their heads. _“They have escaped. But do not worry, we still have our plans to make them suffer. Let them have this victory, it will just be all the sweeter when we destroy them.”_

*

Patrick pressed himself up against the bark of a wide old tree somewhere in the centre of some relatively nearby parkland. If he had still been alive, he would have been breathing hard by now and he was a little, but more out of a reaction to adrenaline than out of need.

“Thanks,” he finally managed.  
“That’s okay,” Pete replied absently as he paced back and forth. Moments later he turned sharply. “I’ve solved your problem… I need you to help me with mine.”

Unable to raise his eyes to meet Patrick’s Pete kept them lowered as he shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. Patrick regarded him, realising from his demeanour that something was seriously wrong. Moving forward, Patrick placed a hand on Pete’s arm comfortingly only to gasp in shock as his friend recoiled appearing to turn even further in on himself.

“What’s wrong, Pete?” Patrick finally asked, keeping his tone even and gentle.  
“You… you can’t tell the others,” he replied, suddenly agitated and nervous.  
“O…kay…” Patrick wasn’t totally sure if he could keep the promise but needed to say something.  
“I’m serious, Trick, you can’t tell them… they’d kill me…” he finally admitted as he turned his back on Patrick, no longer able to look at him.

Patrick took a deep breath. Pete wasn’t given to melodrama, if he thought they might kill him, then he knew something serious must be wrong. But what? He was a vampire! What could be more serious than that?

“What is it, Pete? What have you done?” Patrick tried to keep his voice non-judgemental.  
“It’s not what I’ve done… well, no… it is… but it’s what I’m still doing.”  
“Tell me, Pete,” Patrick tried a comforting approach again, this time placing his palm on Pete’s back, forcing himself not to pull away as Pete stiffened at the touch.  
“I’m addicted… to human blood,” he finally admitted, the pain in his voice more than apparent.  
“This is because of me?” Patrick asked quietly.  
“No,” Pete replied darkly. “It’s because of Beckett.”  
“But it was my blood?”  
“Yeah,” Pete gave a resigned sigh.  
“Have you had more?” Patrick asked, uncertain whether Pete would continue to share the details now.  
“Yeah,” he whispered, barely audible to human ears, but loud enough for Patrick to hear.  
“Are you killing?” Patrick tried hard not to sound shocked, but the answer Pete gave would determine his own reaction.  
“Yeah,” Pete replied almost too low for even Patrick to hear. “Help me, Patrick… please help me.”

Pete dropped to his knees sobbing at the memory of the man he had only that night held in his grip as he sunk his fangs into his neck. He remembered everything, the hunt, the struggle, the soft popping sound and the sensation as he pierced the man’s skin. But most of all, he remembered the sweet warm blood flowing over his tongue. The richness of the iron and copper tinged viscous fluid, heady with fear and adrenaline.

“Pete!” Patrick threw his arms around him as he pulled him close, shaking in his arms. “We’ll get you off this, somehow, we’ll sort it out. I found you the right blend before, didn’t I? I can…”  
“I can’t keep that down any more,” Pete admitted his voice tight with guilt. “I can’t drink it, Trick. I’ve tried so hard, but it won’t stay in me! I even tried some variations, but Spencer said I’ll never get off it.”  
“Spencer!” Patrick gasped at the revelation.  
“He’s alive,” Pete sighed. “He wants to get even with Beckett too.”  
“He can’t be trusted!” Patrick insisted. “Not over Beckett and not over this! We can… no! We will fix this, Pete! We will!”

Dropping his head into the hollow between Patrick’s neck and shoulder, Pete dissolved once more into floods of tears as Patrick pulled him close. Remembering when he had first returned from Beckett’s, Patrick recalled that Pete had been a wreck then too, terrified that they would kill him, sharing information only when he had convinced himself it was safe to do so. Patrick’s mind went blank as he tried to consider how he would resolve Pete’s latest problem. It seemed impossible, but somehow he had to find a way – he had a promise to keep.


	8. Jobs For The Boys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A heartbreaking time for Joe and the city gets new leaders

Andy leaned back against the wall and merely watched. What else could he do? He couldn’t help, he couldn’t change anything, he couldn’t even think of anything constructive to say. Opposite him, in the bed, desperately pale and hooked up to a plethora of machines, lay Andrea. At her side, clutching her hand as if her very life depended upon it, sat Joe. He was almost as pale as his beloved Andrea and just as silent.

“Joe…” Andy began quietly, almost reluctant to disturb the grief-stricken young man.

By way of reply, Joe briefly turned his head slightly. It wasn’t enough to look at Andy, barely more than a twitch, but it was the most he was prepared to offer at this stage.

“Maybe we could get Pete to…” he trailed off, unwilling to actually say the words.  
“No,” Joe whispered. “I… I appreciate what you’re thinking… but no.”  
“But… Joe… she won’t…”  
“I know what the doctor said. I know, okay? I know!” Joe tried hard to keep the volume of his voice low, but he wanted to scream, he wanted to hit something, he wanted to kill William Beckett.  
“I’m just trying to help, Joe,” Andy finally replied, quietly.  
“Help? Help!” 

Joe turned to face his friend and as he did Andy saw how distraught he truly was. His pale complexion only seemed to highlight the bloodshot swollen eyes that screamed out for rest and comfort, but would get neither that night. 

“Andy…” Joe paused as his throat seized at the words. “She’s dying. There’s nothing I can do, nothing anyone can do but wait. I won’t have Pete turn her. I won’t. It’s different for us, we’ve been trained, like Patrick said. He didn’t turn out evil because of it. Andrea… she’s… she… I can’t bear it, Andy! I can’t deal with this!” Joe sagged in the chair, sobbing helplessly as he thought about what was going to happen.

Racing over in lass than a second, Andy pulled his friend into a comforting hug, wishing desperately for the right words to try to console his friend. Deep down, he knew there were no words, no actions. Andrea was beyond help; it was just a matter of time now. With each passing second her vital signs diminished and she was taken one more step closer to death. Still with one hand holding Andrea’s, Joe accepted the hug and pulled Andy closer, gripping the back of his shirt as if he would never let go.

“I wish there was something I…”

Andy didn’t get any further before one of the machines emitted a high-pitched wail. Both men looked up to see Andrea’s heart monitor flatlining. 

“Wh…what? No!” Joe cried, looking up through tear-filled misty eyes.

Almost pushing Andy away in his haste to rise from the chair, Joe headed for the door only to be yanked back and out of the way by Andy as a team of doctors and nurses crashed through the door. Holding Joe back was harder than Andy expected. He knew, of course that the medical staff needed the room, but it broke his heart to be so far from Andrea at this crucial time.

“Could you wait outside, please, sir?” one of the nursing staff urged him, trying to give Joe a gentle push in the direction of the door.  
“I’m not going anywhere!” Joe yelled.  
“Joe… we…” Andy began.  
“I’m not going anywhere!” Joe repeated at once distressed and angry.

Still held back by Andy, Joe watched intently as the doctors worked feverishly to save Andrea’s now deathly pale, almost grey body. The lead doctor sighed heavily as he stood back and shook his head.

“Call it,” he asked quietly.

As another doctor began to state date and time of death, Joe almost sagged in Andy’s grip.

“N…no! Don’t stop! There must be something you can do! There… there must be!”  
“I’m sorry,” the lead doctor shook his head slowly.  
“No,” Joe stared at the floor, without really seeing anything. “No.”

Andy tried to turn him, to pull him into a hug, to try to comfort him in any way. At first, he resisted, more out of simple confusion than denial. Finally Andy turned Joe to face him and the expression on his friend’s face broke his heart. He hadn’t known her for very long, but the pair had shared more feelings for each other than many couples share in a lifetime. Perhaps, Andy mused, on some level their relationship was always meant to be brief. Maybe that was why it had been so intense? But none of that really mattered and none of it would help Joe. Steering his friend from the room, Andy’s bitter hatred for Beckett welled once more. He would pay dearly for hurting his friend so badly.

*

“Pete, it’s okay, they’re not here,” Patrick called out.  
“I know,” Pete replied miserably. “I’d smell their blood if they were.”  
“Yeah… yeah, I guess so,” Patrick replied solemnly.

Pete trudged miserably into the warehouse, refusing to make eye-contact with Patrick even when they were in the same room.

“Pete?” Patrick began with uncertainty over how Pete was going to react to the questions he needed to ask. Deciding it was better to go with what his friend had once been familiar with, Patrick placed a hand on Pete’s left arm, steering him gently towards the rear of the warehouse. “Come to my office,” he added kindly.

“I’m not going to eat anyone,” Pete grumbled. “Well, not Joe and Andy… or Andrea, if she’s still alive.”  
“What do you mean? If she’s still alive,” Patrick frowned deeply at the words spoken so casually.  
“Joe called her,” Pete shrugged. “While he was on the phone, Brendon attacked her. They went to find her.”  
“What!” Patrick couldn’t believe what he was hearing; had Pete really become so insensitive? “Why didn’t you tell me?”  
“Odd that,” Pete mused; ignoring Patrick’s outburst. “You and her being in the same building.”  
“You’re telling me that you got me out of that vault and all the time Joe and Andy were upstairs trying to save Andrea?”  
“Ugh!” Pete rolled his eyes in irritation. “I didn’t know where they were by then, we got split up.”  
“Split up… how?” Patrick asked trying to keep his voice calm.  
“Vampires,” he shrugged indifferently. “I had to deal with them. Then I thought that if I ate them, that it might keep the hunger off for a while, you know, second-hand human blood.”  
“And did it?” Patrick asked, still aghast at Pete’s uncharacteristic lack of concern.  
“You know it didn’t, I told you before,” he glowered, acting as if Patrick had deliberately baited him. “After that, I went to get you.”  
“So, you were on your way, but you stopped off to eat first?”  
“I know how that sounds,” Pete sighed deeply before turning away.  
“I really don’t think you do,” Patrick corrected.  
“You know what, Patrick? I don’t care! I really don’t care how it sounds. Andy and Joe are more than capable of handling their own interests and I’ve got a lot to deal with myself here and nobody else… not even you… is going to give a damn about it! So I have to. Me! Just me, taking care of myself because no one else is going to do it for me!”  
“I’m worried about you, Pete.” 

Patrick frowned, deeply concerned by the change in Pete’s character. Yes, since his turning, he had always been surly and distant, but this was different. Pete wasn’t just angry any more… he was… Patrick didn’t want to even think the words.

“Pete…” Patrick began again, somewhat tentatively as he opened a draw behind him.  
“Save it!” Pete growled. “You’ll just have to trust me.”  
“Yeah,” Patrick sighed as he withdrew a small object from the draw.  
“But I see you can’t,” Pete added in a clipped angry tone as he appeared suddenly behind Patrick, gripping his wrist so tightly as to force him to drop the tranquiliser pistol he held in his hand.  
“Pete!” Patrick gasped as the pain in his wrist coursed up his arm.  
“I’m disappointed, Trick, I really am,” Pete added as he twisted Patrick’s arm forcefully up his back and holding his neck with his other hand, pressed him against the wall. “You don’t trust me.”  
“No, I don’t,” Patrick grimaced, “but then, you’re not exactly giving me a reason to, are you!”  
“I don’t need to give you a reason! I don’t need to give you anything! I got you out of that vault, didn’t I? Why is that not enough for you?”

Patrick relaxed in Pete’s grip, no longer struggling to get free.

“You’re right,” Patrick nodded. “You’re right, but Pete, you need help. You asked me to help you, but it’s you that doesn’t trust me!”  
“Okay,” Pete frowned, stepping back and releasing his hold on Patrick. “Help me, but I’m not going back into that cage!”

Having turned back to face his friend, Patrick paused and considered his words.

“If the time ever comes to put you back in there, then we have a real problem,” he admitted quietly. “Let’s get to work.”

*

“It’s all my fault, Andy,” Joe whispered, as he stared down at his interlaced finger. “If it weren’t for me she’d still be alive.”  
“No!” Andy replied instantly. 

He sounded almost harsh in his response, but it gained Joe’s attention and he turned tired reddened eyes towards his friend.

“That’s not true, Joe and you know it.”  
“Do I?” Joe replied miserably. “If we’d never met…”  
“If you’d never met, you would have been dead in an alley, back when they laid the trap for us.”  
Joe shrugged. “Rather me than her.”

Andy seized Joe by his arms and shook him.

“Don’t you ever say that again, Joe Trohman!”

Joe looked up; his own tired, bloodshot eyes stared into Andy’s and he saw the dampness of his friend’s lashes. It was hard to say if Andy was crying for Andrea or Joe, but either way, it opened the gates of Joe’s own tightly held emotions. Crumpling forward against Andy’s chest, Joe let all his despair and pain out in wrenching, noisy sobs. Andy curled his arms around his friend, now shaking visibly.

“That’s good, Joe, let it out, let it all out.”

*

“Brendon,” Beckett drew himself up to his full height, ignoring the carnage in the room around him. “I take it the remaining members of the current Administration are still in the adjoining room?”  
“I turned the key in the lock myself,” Brendon grinned in reply, licking the last of the blood from his teeth.  
“Good, bring them in,” Beckett settled himself against the one of the walls as Brendon left the room. “Are you still hungry, Michael?”

Mike Carden looked up and almost heaved a sigh of relief; it was the first time that Beckett had spoken kindly to him since they had met up again. At first, Mike had tried to call the shots, but Beckett knew how to take charge, how to command a situation. As much as Mike would have liked to have asserted a new order where he increased his status, Beckett had pushed him back once more. He didn’t like it, but Beckett provided food and security; people still feared him and for now, that was enough for him.

“Yes, Master William, I think I’m ready for an entree now.”

Beckett laughed openly at Mike’s bloodthirsty eagerness. Mike Carden was not a flamboyant killer like Brendon, nor was he strong or cunning like Spencer had been, but when a kill needed to be made, swiftly and surely, Mike was the vampire entrusted with the task. It wasn’t that Brendon wouldn’t get the job done. On the contrary, he was a most accomplished killer, thorough and tenacious. But Mike? Well, he liked to kill. He enjoyed killing for its own sake. If torture or simple maiming were required, he was less interested. No, Mike liked to kill and right at that moment, he was almost salivating at the idea.

“Don’t get too optimistic, Michael, we may not have any dissenters, but I promise you… for your loyalty… you will have first kill.”  
“Master!” Mike’s eyes opened wide as he finally felt forgiven by Beckett. “But what if there is only one?”  
“Yours Michael, I told you, all yours.” 

Beckett’s grin extended when he saw the breadth of gratitude in the young vampire’s eyes. Years of dealing with young vampires, and of discovering their weaknesses and desires had given him the ability to secure their absolute loyalty. He had known exactly what to offer each and every member of his Coven to ensure his unerring loyalty – with only two exceptions. Both of whom, as far as he was concerned, had been dealt with – Spencer, he believed, lay beneath the ruins of his mansion, completely drained of blood and unable to recover without the blood of another vampire. And Peter had consumed human blood. This had satisfied him more than anything – finally after two years of trying, he had forced Peter to drink human blood from its source. Now, Peter would be suffering greatly with a deep need to sate his new addiction. The hunger for human blood, while it would be shocking enough to the young vampire was only the beginning of his problems. Soon, Peter would realise, or at the very least someone would discover, that every time he drank from a human, he would lose a little more of his self-imposed control. Before long, with his self-control slowly eroding, Peter would become dangerous to those around him, even his friends. Beckett grinned cruelly to himself as he contemplated how now there could be only one of two possible outcomes. Peter would either recognise what was happening to him and kill himself to save his friends and the humans he could potentially kill – what Beckett considered ‘the cowards way out’ or he would continue to drink blood, revelling in the change it brought about in him. He would continue to kill and each time it would become more and more indiscriminate, he would enjoy it in fact. And perhaps, just perhaps, he would beg forgiveness of his rightful master and rejoin the Coven. Beckett hoped it would be the latter.

“Ah, Brendon,” Beckett greeted his favourite brightly. “Is everyone here?”  
“A couple of them said they had to leave, Master William, but I convinced them to stay.”

Beckett smiled arrogantly as he watched the small group of eighteen people herded like cattle into the large meeting room. He noted with some satisfaction, the terrified expressions on most of their faces, others seemed outraged. 

“I hope you didn’t hurt anyone, Brendon,” Beckett chuckled. “That would not do at all.”  
“Of course not, Master William, I merely persuaded them.”  
“By telling us you’d eat us if we didn’t do as you said!” One of the older ‘outraged’ men snapped.  
“Good God! Look!” Another man shouted as he finally spied one of the bodies at the back of the room.  
“They… ah… didn’t want to join my new administration,” Beckett chuckled softly. “I didn’t share their point of view. Now then, is there anyone else who doesn’t want to join my new administration?”

In the room, the gathered senior lawyers, police and politicians glanced at each other and the three vampires, before final the first to speak spoke again, this time as a whisper to the group. Unfortunately for him, he was oblivious to the elevated ability of vampire hearing.

“If we all rush them together…?” he began, but he would never finish his sentence.

On the tiniest of signals from Beckett, Mike rushed forward in a blur of frenzied greed. The kill was over surprisingly fast and with Mike’s usual ferocity. Blood spattered the walls almost up to the ceiling an Beckett couldn’t help but laugh as the look of horror froze on the man’s face as Mike pressed his dying body against the wall for additional leverage as he tore at his neck. Beckett knew that Mike’s actions were largely for show, playing up to the literally captive audience, but it was effective. Dropping the lawyer to the floor, Mike turned and wiped his mouth theatrically.

“Does anyone else have any doubts?” Beckett asked, certain of the reply.

Small murmurs filled the room and the men nearest the murdered lawyer, now sprayed with blood looked as though they may collapse at any moment. They were ready now to accept the new administration and were aware of the high price commanded for their loyalty.

“Very well,” Beckett smiled. “I am William Beckett. You may call me Master Beckett and I am your new Governor and Chief Judge. To my right, your Chief of Police, Brendon Urie, Master Urie to you. And to my left, Mayor Michael Carden.”

Mike turned a disappointed glance towards Beckett, unhappy that the humans would not be expected to refer him as Master. If he understood the reason for Mike’s disappointment, he didn’t show it and made no attempt to address the issue. Mike turned back to face the humans; perhaps he had been granted enough favour for one night? Perhaps.

*

Outside the warehouse, staring in through one of its few windows, Spencer chuckled to himself. Pete had been a wreck when they returned and Patrick hadn’t looked so good himself, either. All seemed unwell in the hunter’s camp and, if need be, he would exploit it to his own ends. He wanted revenge on Beckett and was determined to use any means to get it, even it meant a truce with the hunters.


	9. Curfew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beckett issues the first of his Decrees

Patrick frowned as he heard knocking on the door of the warehouse’s metal door, frowning even more when he noticed Pete roll his eyes.

“You know who that is?” he asked.  
“It’s Spencer,” Pete sighed irritably.  
“Spencer? Knocking?” Patrick replied, now even more confused.  
“Oh, yeah,” Pete smirked, “you don’t know, when I was in Beckett’s dungeon, Carden told me that Spencer had fallen. Beckett had me beat him senseless, then he all but killed him.”  
“Not very successfully,” Patrick commented, frowning deeper at the increasing noise. “What’s he doing here?”  
“Let’s ask him,” Pete replied, almost cheerfully as he strode quickly past Patrick towards the door.

A blur of movement followed and Pete pulled up sharply as Patrick appeared in front of him, pressing a palm to his chest.

“Don’t invite him in!” Patrick warned. “We can’t have him coming and going as he pleases with Andy and Joe here.”  
“Do you think I’m stupid?” Pete snapped.  
“No.”

There was a certain amount of hesitancy and uncertainty in Patrick’s reply, which after a brief pause caused Pete to roll his eyes.

“Thanks, Trick, remind me to support you one day!”  
“I said no!” Patrick insisted as Pete moved to the door.  
“Yeah, with about as much conviction as Andy when he first said he trusted me.”  
“Let it go, Pete, we trust you.”  
“Yeah?” Pete turned saddened eyes towards his friend. “For how long, Trick? I mean, seriously… with my addiction? How long?”  
“We’ll sort it out, I promise,” Patrick replied quietly.  
“You can’t sort it out!” Spencer’s voice yelled through the door. “Not without my help!”

*

“Joe,” Andy spoke gently. “The doctor says we… he says we should go.”  
“Go?”

Joe looked from the window and the moonlit sky to Andy standing in the doorway of the waiting room to which they had both been ushered earlier.

“What about Andrea?” Joe asked hesitantly.  
“He…” Andy sighed and looked crestfallen. “He says he can’t release her to us, because we’re not family.”  
“But… I… Andy, I can’t just…”  
“She has a brother apparently,” Andy said sadly. “He’s coming to… to make the arrangements.”  
“How did he know?” Joe frowned.  
“Police search, I guess,” Andy shrugged.  
“It’s not fair, Andy. I… it isn’t fair! What if we wait till he arrives?”  
Andy looked down at his feet before sighing and looking up once more. “Joe, it won’t be tonight. He’s not local, I’ve left our number and there’s…”  
“What?”  
“There’s going to be an autopsy.”

Andy heard the catch in Joe’s throat as he exhaled unhappily.

“Okay,” he nodded finally. “Let’s go home.”  
“He’ll ring, Joe, I’m sure he will.”

*

Beckett smiled with deep satisfaction as the first of what he called his _Decrees_ was aired simultaneously and repeatedly over the radio and television. In addition all morning newspapers would carry the notice on their front pages.

_Following prolonged and continued harassment of the vampire groups by a certain team of self-styled vampire hunters, it has become necessary to offer protection to all vampires. This can only be achieved effectively by separation of the two communities. Therefore, all humans will be subject to a curfew effective from dusk until dawn._

_It is appreciated that some humans need to work the evening hours and we accept this. However, all humans working past the hour of dusk will be required to be in their place of work before sundown and may not then leave until dawn._

_Any human found outside their home or workplace between the hours of sundown and sunrise will be considered food._

_Absolute compliance is expected without exception and non-compliance will result in immediate death._

_By order,_   
_Governor Beckett_

Beckett nodded as he passed the press release to Brendon.

“There’ll be a public outcry,” Brendon sneered. “No one’s going to stand for this.”  
“No,” Mike agreed looking up from a pale, almost dead body, “but no one’s going to risk venturing outdoors after dusk and if they do, they were warned.”  
“Do you have to do that in here?” Brendon frowned with distaste at Mike now leaning back over the intern hanging limply in his hands.  
“What? I felt like a snack!”  
“You’re a real…”  
“Yeah, Brendon,” Mike snapped dropping the intern. “We all know your opinion on killing and eating.” He gestured with his hand in the air in an imitation of a royal wave before adding in an airy voice. “The kill must be all about grace and elegance. It is a thing of beauty and must be handled with flair and style.”

Brendon narrowed his eyes at the younger vampire.

“Or,” Mike continued, “it’s just possible that it’s about getting your fangs into someone and eating them.”  
“You debase everything!” Brendon snapped. “You’re a disgrace to the Coven!”  
“What Coven? It may have escaped your notice, Brendon, that there is no coven any more!”  
“There is while I’m still here!” Beckett growled. “And you had better remember your place in it!”  
“Yes, Master,” Mike muttered under his breath.

In a furious rage, Beckett unleashed a wave of power against the unsuspecting vampire. Lifted from the chair on which he was still seated, Mike was lifted high into the air and slammed back against the wall behind him with such force that he now hung limply, barely conscious. Releasing him almost immediately, Beckett watched with deep-seated anger as Mike fell to a crumpled heap on the floor and remained there, groaning in pain.

“That reminds me, Brendon, I promised to show you levitation, did I not?”  
“You did, William.”  
“Come with me.”

Beckett gestured for Brendon to follow as he headed for the door, leaving Mike alone, still in a great deal of pain, trying to heal shattered bones.

*

The door to a darkened hospital room opened slowly and a tall, young doctor entered the room, smiling as he saw his patient standing by the window and a long dead nurse, drained of all blood, lying on the floor.

“Have they gone?”  
“They left a few minutes ago,” the doctor replied.  
“Good. Has Master William been informed?”  
“Of course.”  
“When do I start?”  
“Tomorrow night will be soon enough. You…” the doctor paused. “You don’t have a problem with this do you?”  
“A problem? With what?”  
“Terrorising the hunter,” he clarified.  
“No!” she laughed heartlessly. “He’s nothing to me.”

*

“What does he mean, ‘we can’t sort it out without his help’,” Patrick cocked his head to one side as he stared at Pete, his left hand pointing vaguely in the direction of the door.

Pete shrugged dramatically raising his hands, palms facing up; his expression confirming the intention of the action.

“Well, I don’t know, do I?”  
“You knew it was Spencer,” Patrick reasoned.  
“I saw him outside before,” Pete replied, shrugging his shoulders again, but with much less conviction.  
“And you were going to tell me… when?”  
“For fuck’s sake, Trick! I just got you away from Beckett! Spencer wasn’t on my list of priorities!”  
“Ugh! I’m sorry! You’re right, I’m sorry,” Patrick shook his head as he realised how his reaction had sounded. “So, what do we do?”  
“Are you two girls gonna let me in or not?” Spencer yelled through the door.  
“Not!” Patrick shouted back.  
“Wait!” Pete yelled immediately after. “Patrick, this…” Pete moved a step forward and gripped Patrick’s arms. “This is killing me, but…” he lowered his head in shame, “more importantly, it’s killing others… I… I’m killing. I can’t…”  
“Pete, I understand that, but what makes you think he can help? You know we can’t trust him.”  
“Trick, I’m desperate,” Pete looked up once more, staring into Patrick’s eyes and giving away more of himself in that brief moment than he had since he was turned. “I can’t risk letting go of a single chance. You know it won’t stop on it’s own, you know it’ll only get worse! What if I… if I turn evil?”  
“You…” Patrick paused. He was going to say ‘you won’t’ but even he didn’t truly believe that it couldn’t happen. “Okay, but we have to go outside, we can’t let him in, not with Joe and Andy around – I don’t trust him.”  
“What if he went in the cage?” Pete asked.  
“We could ask him,” Patrick shrugged.  
“No need,” Pete smirked, “he’s still too weak to fight me!”  
“Wait! We’ll just go outside first,” Patrick pulled Pete back. “See what he’s got to say.”

Opening the door Patrick stood in front of Pete in an attempt to control the situation and ensure that Pete didn’t just pull the ex-Dandy into the warehouse on a whim. Outside, Spencer appeared very sure of himself, grinning broadly as he eyed the pair standing just inside the door staring with uncertainty at him.

“Well, well,” Spencer tilted his head as he raised a surprised eyebrow at Patrick. “You’re not human.”  
“You know I’m not,” Patrick returned dryly. “You’ve already spoken to Pete.”  
“Yeah, a couple of times,” Spencer shrugged lightly. “You didn’t come up.” Spencer smiled slightly as Patrick bristled at the comment. “You going to invite me in then?”  
“No, we’re not,” Patrick snapped.  
“I’ll go then,” Spencer turned on his heels.  
“Wait!” Pete shouted. “We both want the same thing… to destroy Beckett.”

Spencer turned again, but this time much more slowly. Eyeing Pete, a smirk formed on his face as he worked out a way to get what he wanted.

“No, Wentz, that’s not all you want is it? I mean, look at you. You’re a wreck!”  
“We can help each other. You can’t do this on your own, you’re not strong enough yet.”  
“I’m getting stronger all the time, Wentz. Unlike you, I don’t have stupid hang-ups about eating. I caught up with you, you know and I watched you kill that guy. Interesting choice.”  
“Shut up, Spencer! I don’t need your…”  
“Oh, but you do, you know you do! You’re terrified, Wentz, the fear is just dripping off you.”  
“What do you want, Spencer?” Patrick finally asked. “You need us and don’t bother to say you don’t because why else would you be here? But you’re trying to get us to agree to your terms and you think by playing on Pete’s… concerns… that you can get us to agree to anything. I don’t believe you can help, so why don’t you prove you can?”  
“I don’t need you, I was going to suggest a partnership out of convenience, but I don’t need you!” Spencer growled back.  
“Oh, yes you do!” Pete’s dark eyes glowered at the ex-Dandy. “You think you don’t need us because you have the element of surprise. Beckett doesn’t know you’re alive, so you think that gives you an edge, but it doesn’t. You wanna know why?”  
“Go on, Wentz, surprise me!”  
“Because I’ll tell him.”

Spencer glared furiously at Pete; even Patrick turned a surprised gaze towards his friend.

“Yeah, that’s right, Spence, I’ll tell him. Whether I like it or not, I’m still connected to him and if you can help me but you walk away instead, I’ll be in his mind so fast and so loud, you’ll hear it too. You’ll do exactly what we say and the only choices you’ll get are the ones we give you. Now, you can come in, but on the condition that we keep you locked up.”  
“What about food? You gonna bring me a human every night?”  
“I’ll sort something out,” Patrick nodded.  
“I’m not having your pigs blood!”  
“I said I’d sort something out!” Patrick yelled in reply.  
“A truce?” Spencer asked miserably. “We work together.”  
“You work for us,” Pete growled. “You help me, we help you. We all get what we want.”

Spencer nodded. It wasn’t what he wanted, but there seemed little he could do about it. His plans had gone for nothing and Pete had the upper hand again, but there was still time and now, he was inside.

*

The silence was all consuming. Both men were exhausted and drained with a long journey home stretching ahead of them. The roads seemed unusually quiet even for the time of night, and Andy couldn’t help but notice that he seemed to be driving the only car for several miles. Glancing over at his passenger, he noticed that Joe was staring unseeing into the night. It seemed that he hadn’t moved or even blinked since they had left the hospital and the only sound was his breathing. As they passed streetlights, the door window would brighten enough to show a very clear reflection of Joe’s tired, careworn face and Andy now frowned as he noticed the glistening in Joe’s eyes.

“Joe,” Andy ventured quietly.  
“Mmm?”  
“I’m getting tired, do you mind if I put the radio on? It’ll help keep me awake.”  
“Sure.”

Andy swallowed hard; he hated seeing his friend in such a state. Joe was fun loving, easy going, always the first to laugh and see the funny side, but this had crushed him. Andy vowed, then and there, he would kill Brendon for this. Reaching forward, Andy switched on the radio. It seemed at that time of night the music choices were limited to ballads, easy listening, country music and classical. He had never really understood that, anyone listening to the radio at that time of night would want something to keep them awake, not send them to sleep. Switching to a local news station, Andy’s eyes widened at what he heard.

_“… and it seems that Governor Beckett has got exactly what he wanted. There are no cars on the road, no people on the streets, just vampires.”_   
_“Governor Beckett!” Andy cried as he slammed on the brakes bringing the car to a skidding stop._

  
“H…how?” Joe finally stirred from his daze.

Turning up the radio, the two hunters listened in astonishment.

_“This is the news that the new Governor, Master William Beckett has decreed that humans must submit to a curfew to protect vampires. The reason behind this surprising move being to try to prevent the actions of a group of vampire hunters, whose sole purpose seems to be to attack and kill the members of various vampire covens across the city.”_

  
“No one’s going to stand for that!” Andy shouted.  
“Look around, Andy,” Joe commented. “Does it look to you like people are ignoring it?”  
“No,” Andy frowned as he remembered that he hadn’t seen a car or a single person for miles.  
“In fact, if anything, they’re going to hate us.”  
“But the vampires’ll hate it too! Where are they going to get food now?” Andy reasoned.  
“Andy, I think you better step on the gas or you’ll get an answer quicker than you’d like.”

Outside the car, the shadows were moving; dark figures still hugging the walls, recognising the car and using caution. But soon, they both knew, that on seeing only two of them and both humans, they would attack and the growing numbers would give them the confidence to sooner rather than later. Setting the car into drive, Andy gasped as the vampires descended on the car. Pressing his foot to the floor, Andy’s breath hitched as he ploughed through and hoped for the best.


	10. Andy offers Joe a shoulder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andy shows his wisdom and thoughtfulness and Masters Beckett and Saporta plot to bring down the hunters

How they were managing to cling on, he didn’t know, but what Andy did know was that he couldn’t see through the windshield to drive. Driving fast, he knew he couldn’t swerve to shake them without running the risk of crashing, but he knew he had to do something and fast. The noise of them clambering all over the car and beating at the roof and sides was deafening.

“The wipers!” Joe yelled above the clamour.  
“What?” Andy shouted back. “That won’t get them off!”

Unwilling to waste time explaining why, Joe leaned over and turned the switch to spray the windshield from the washer bottle. Deafening screams filled the car as sizzling vampires rolled off the hood, bouncing on the asphalt as they tried to stop the burning that spread over their bodies. With the speed of the car allowing the water to fly further, beyond the windshield, a few more squirts from the bottle had showered the whole car with what Andy now realised was Holy Water and within moments, the attacking vampires were just specks in the rear-view mirror.

“How did… Did you do that?” Andy stammered, grateful to have put the attack behind them so quickly, but still shocked at how sudden it had been.  
“Yeah,” Joe sighed with relief. “I filled the bottle with Holy Water after… the first rescue attempt when they had you in the mansion. We… were attacked in the car and I just thought…”  
“You’re a genius, Joe,” Andy grinned, elated to have escaped but also pleased that Joe was talking again. “You know that don’t you?”  
“Well, I… Andy, I’m sorry.”  
“What about?” Andy smile quickly faded.  
“I’ve been so wrapped up in my own problems that…”  
“Joe, that’s understandable,” Andy interrupted.  
“Hear me out please, Andy,” Joe replied, firmly, but kindly. “I barely knew her…”  
“But…”  
“Andy, please!”  
“Sorry. Go on, I’m listening.”

Joe nodded thoughtfully; he knew he hadn’t considered what he wanted to say and that it was going to come out in a way that some people might describe as freeform or organic but he would simply describe it as garbled. He just hoped that he would make some sense and that Andy would understand.

“I barely knew her, but she meant so much more to me than I can say. I can’t explain it, but I… think I loved her, Andy. I don’t think I’ll ever know for sure and I think for some reason that’s really hurting me. I should be upset that she’s gone, but all I can think about is that I’ll never know if she was the one… you know? I know that doesn’t make any sense… in fact it sounds almost clinical. What kind of a man am I that that’s my biggest concern!”

Andy turned his head sharply as Joe’s voice rose in pitch and volume as he became increasingly angry. Unwilling to stop the car again, Andy kept moving but offered his reply.

“Just the normal kind, Joe,” he said softly. “The kind that finds it too hard to deal with something so terrible that he focuses on something a little less painful then beats himself up over it.”

Joe turned to face Andy, who kept his eyes fixed firmly on the road. He had, by now, realised that Joe was trying to cope, trying to deal with it but was fighting himself. Andy had to make him realise that how he was coping was a perfectly normal grieving stage – denial – refusing to think about it and diverting his thoughts. By staring ahead and talking chattily, he hoped to convince Joe that he wasn’t just being sympathetic and hopefully, be believed.

“You’re dealing with it, Joe. There’s no particular way to be, or think, you just get through it the best you can. But we’re here for you when you need us and well, when you don’t too. You may feel on your own with this and I can’t lie and say I know exactly what you’re feeling, but I do know how it feels to lose someone. It messes with your head, Joe, it really does, but that’s normal and so are you.”  
“Thanks, Andy, you’re the best,” Joe nodded. He still appeared tired, but he seemed much calmer.  
“Let’s go home, I still haven’t heard anything from Pete.”  
“You don’t honestly expect him to think to contact you, do you?” Joe raised an eyebrow.  
“Not really, but… well it’d be good to know if he’s safe at least.”

*

Beckett drummed his fingers on the desk and looked up to the ceiling. He hadn’t expected to wait so long and he was growing increasingly impatient. Finally, after what seemed an age, the door opened to reveal Brendon who, after a short respectful bow, stepped a few paces into the room.

“Who do we have?” Beckett asked with a stern expression fixed on his face.  
“Master Saporta,” Brendon replied equally coolly.  
“Alone?” Beckett asked with an eyebrow raised in surprise.  
“His Second is with him, but I’ve told him to wait.”  
“Well then, Brendon, show Master Saporta in. I suspect we have much to discuss.”  
“Yes, Master William.”

A short pause followed before the door opened once more.

“Master William,” Brendon announced. “Master Saporta to see you.”

Beckett looked up as the tall dark vampire leader of the Midtown Coven strode confidently into the room. Beckett’s expression, already superior moved towards smug conceit as he noticed the irritation on the newcomer’s face.

“Good evening, Gabriel, please come in.”  
“You’ve gone too far now, Beckett!” the angry vampire snapped as he approached the desk.  
“Too far?” Beckett smirked. “Can a vampire go too far? Or are you merely angry because you didn’t think of it first?”  
“You’ve got more lives than a cat! What do you want, Beckett? If you’re trying to kill us all, don’t imagine you’ll manage it!”  
“Kill you?” Beckett smiled sweetly. “Wherever did you get that idea?”  
“Taking our food off the streets! How else are we going to see it?”  
“You really have so little imagination?” Beckett shook his head as he got to his feet and rounded the desk. As tall as Beckett was, Saporta was a few inches taller again and confident enough to be intimidating to all but the strongest. “The hospitals and factories are full of food – do you want it dressed up with ribbons? Don’t you realise what I’ve done?”  
“What?” Saporta asked, unimpressed by Beckett’s self-importance. “Come on, Will, impress me, what _have_ you done?”

Beckett smiled a broad smug grin before settling himself in a comfortable chair and indicating that Saporta take the seat opposite.

“You want rid of the hunters, the same as I do, but, unlike you, I’ve chosen to actually _do something_ _about it_.”  
“As I recall,” Saporta frowned as he leaned forward in the chair, “the last time you tried to ‘do something about it’ they all but destroyed your Coven and burnt down you mansion. What are you going to do to let them do to you this time? Make you bathe in Holy Water? Turn you vegetarian?”

Beckett narrowed his eyes at the coven leader. This one had always been the biggest thorn in his side and the most irreverent. He had been the one he had looked forward to killing the most, but now, severely outnumbered by the other covens, he could not act on his murderous inclinations without risking his still very precarious position. Many of the vampire police, doctors and media, on whom he was currently reliant, owed their allegiance to no coven or master in particular and would act for whoever offered the most.

“No, Gabriel, what I have done is to isolate them utterly. No human will have sympathy for them after my first decree ordering a curfew. Humans have such selective memories. No one will remember what they’ve done to make the town safer. No one will care about the efforts they’ve gone to, the personal sacrifices they’ve made. No, they will be hated and soon, after I release my second decree, offering a bounty on them, they’ll be hunted by their own kind… well, two of them, anyway. And that, my dear Gabriel is were, if you so wish, you can be of assistance. Two of their group are vampires…”  
“Two?” Saporta queried.  
“It’s a long story, but suffice to say Peter turned Patrick and is now suffering the consequences.”  
Saporta grinned cruelly. “You finally made him drink human blood?”  
“Indeed I did,” Beckett smirked triumphantly. “No doubt Patrick believes he can help him get past his addiction. Now, we both know he might as well ask the rain to fall upwards, but he must have his fantasy. I want you to make things much worse for the irksome little runt.”  
“How?” Saporta grinned.  
“Befriend them, offer your help to halt the addiction. He’s already killed.”  
“What’s in it for me?” Saporta mused on the request.  
“What do you want?”  
“This town.”  
“No,” Beckett shook his head, flashing a wry smile at the other vampire. “This is my town.”  
“I want a piece of it,” he grew serious as he spoke. “I want the monopoly on gambling. Okay?”  
Beckett smiled, nodding his approval. “Of course. It seems fair that you should deal in the only acceptable kind of stakes.”  
Saporta nodded to acknowledge the attempt at humour and his gratitude at the concession. “By the time I’ve finished, they’ll both be addicted and along with their craving they’d be delighting in the kill.”  
“By the time you’re finished, Gabriel, I want to watch them eat Andrew and Joseph. Do you accept?”

Without another word, Saporta offered a hand to Beckett to seal the deal. It felt too easy, but Beckett was determined to take nothing for granted. This time, he would destroy the hunters and he would enjoy every moment.

*

Spencer glowered at Pete’s satisfied smirk as Patrick switched on the electric current that ran through the bars of the cage.

“This is going to hold you Spencer, until we figure out what you really want,” Patrick announced.  
“What do you mean ‘ _What I really want_ ’? You know what I want! Beckett dusted!”  
“I believe you,” Patrick replied evenly.  
“Then what...?”  
“But I don’t believe that’s all you want.”  
“I let you go when Beckett had you prisoners!” Spencer argued.  
“Spencer, let’s not pretend that was for any other reason than to bring Brendon down.”  
“Don’t think I’m going to help you with Wentz now! No way!”  
“I didn’t think you would anyway,” Patrick shrugged. “Or could, for that matter. Since when has a Dandy ever tried to help someone get off blood?”  
“Then why did you invite me in?” Spencer asked, puzzled.  
“So we know exactly where you are and that you can’t do any harm,” Patrick explained, much to Pete’s delight.  
“You can wipe that grin off your face, Wentz!” he yelled from within the cage. “Don’t you think you’ve got control!”

Spencer grew angrier as Pete remained silent but his grin widened as he stood, arms folded, watching the ex-Dandy become increasingly irate.

“You’ve made the mistake of your life, or death! I can’t believe you actually invited me in. Do you really think I won’t be able to get out of this pathetic little cage?”  
Pete grinned still further. “Oh, please try!”  
“Pete!” Patrick scolded, but was half laughing himself.  
“Oh, but I really want to see him try, Trick.” His grin faded to an angry and bitter scowl as he stared at their erstwhile enemy, now claiming a truce, but furious at being locked up for their safety’s sake. “Go on, Spence, try it. Try to escape,” he growled.

The certainty in Pete’s taunting was enough to shake Spencer’s confidence and he found himself trying hard to maintain the determined expression and resolve he had previously displayed.

“Well,” he shrugged with a level of hesitation that was enough to bring back faint traces of Pete’s smirk. “Even if I can’t, I can always get a human to let me out. Unlike you, Wentz, I mastered controlling minds. I can easily make Joe or Andy do exactly what I want, whenever I want and then I’m out of here.”

Pete waited; his expression remaining unreadable until Spencer’s sense of smug arrogance returned and he stared at him with undoubted superiority. If there was one thing that Pete enjoyed more than bringing Spencer down to earth with a resounding thud, it was bringing a _very self-satisfied_ Spencer down to earth with a resounding thud.

“Yeah,” Pete replied dismissively as he turned to walk away. “Good luck with that!”  
“Wentz!” Spencer yelled as Pete and Patrick walked away, heads close together and whispering to each other. “Wentz!” he yelled again, furious to be ignored.

*

Patrick sighed deeply as they reached his office; it was obvious to anyone that he seemed to have the weight of the world on his shoulders. In truth, he felt as though he did. Still coming to terms with his own vampirism, he was almost forced to put his own confusion and distress aside to consider Pete’s more pressing and urgent concerns. Taking a seat at his desk, Patrick scanned the shelves crammed with journals, each one well used and dog-eared with the spines torn back at the top and bottom from repeated removal from their places. Reaching up, he finally selected a volume before pushing it back and retrieving the two beside it.

“That’s it is it?” Pete asked cryptically.  
“That’s what?” Patrick asked puzzled by the comment.  
“The answer to all my problems is in one of those books?” Pete’s reply could have been assumed to be sarcastic or bitter, but his tone told a different story. He was afraid; afraid, nervous and unhappy.

Patrick smiled sympathetically before taking a deep breath. What could he say? This was his best friend, suffering the worst crisis in nearly two years, possibly even his life and he really wasn’t certain if he could find the answers he was looking for. He wanted to be honest, he wanted to be positive but he knew he would find it hard to be both.

“We didn’t know if we’d find a blend to hold off your bloodlust when you were first turned and we did, didn’t we?”  
“Well, you did,” Pete nodded. “But this is different. This time...”  
“We’ll take it slowly, we’ll figure it out, Pete. I promise.”  
“You can’t promise, Trick, not this time.”

Patrick frowned; something in Pete’s tone told him that he had already given up.  
“This isn’t like you, Pete. You’re a fighter, we can do this.”  
Forcing a faint smile, Pete all but confirmed Patrick’s fears. “Be honest, Trick, you haven’t got a clue what to do, have you?”  
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Patrick smirked as he opened one journal to a blank page and the other to a page heavy with writing, addresses, phone numbers and small several small sketches of logos. “Not only do I have a clue, but I have a plan. It’s all arranged.”  
“Trick, I just told you about my addiction, how can it possibly be all arranged?”

From a small cabinet at the side of the desk, Patrick removed a small folder and pushed it towards Pete. Gingerly, he opened the flap and pulled out the papers inside. Reading the contents, Pete was, at first, confused then astonished at what he was reading.

“You set up as a company?” Pete gasped as he continued to read the papers.  
“As a clinic,” Patrick corrected. “It’s all legal and I think it’s time to place our first order for blood and… a few other things.”  
“You… you never said anything,” Pete finally managed.  
“How could I tell you that I was preparing for the possibility that one day you’d be drawn to human blood?”  
“You... You could have...”  
Patrick shook his head as Pete tried to form unconvincing sentences.  
“You would have been angry, Pete, you know you would. You would have assumed that I didn’t trust you, that I thought that one day you’d slip... or worse.”  
“I did,” Pete sighed forlornly.  
“You didn’t slip,” Patrick corrected.  
“No, it was worse.”  
“Don’t, Pete,” Patrick frowned unhappily at his friend’s insistence on torturing himself over turning him. “It’s not worth beating yourself up over.”  
“Not worth...!”  
“Pete! This isn’t about me!” Patrick interrupted, taking hold of Pete’s arms and shaking him lightly.  
“Of course it’s about you! If I hadn’t... if... Trick it was your blood, your life and I took it. I don’t deserve any help, let alone yours.”  
“Stop it!” Patrick yelled in his frustration. “We’re going to deal with what’s happened and that’s all! Do I have to punch you out again?”  
“No,” Pete smiled and almost laughed. “So...”

Both vampires turned their heads sharply at the sound of the warehouse door opening. Closing the file and both books, Patrick placed them back on the shelves in the blink of an eye.

“Joe and Andy.”  
Pete nodded thoughtfully. “But not Andrea.”

The pair stared at each other concerned until the inevitable call came.

“Pete!” Andy yelled, his tone furious. “What the hell is he doing here?”  
“I guess we’ve got some explaining to do,” Pete frowned. “But, if not him, at least they’ll be happy to see you.”  
“Until they find out I was the one who invited him in.”  
“I’ll say I did,” Pete nodded solemnly. “Nothing to do with you.”  
“Pete, they already…” Patrick cut himself off sharply and wished he hadn’t begun the sentence.  
“Go on, you can say it – they already don’t trust me.”  
“I wasn’t going to say that,” Patrick lied.  
“Okay, so you’ve had a few seconds to think of something, what were you going to say?”  
Patrick looked away, unable to lie again. “I don’t know for sure, I’m just sensing it from them, maybe it’s just because of Spencer?”  
“Well, there’s no point them mistrusting both of us, is there?” Pete sighed.  
“You think Spencer’s gonna keep his mouth shut? Any chance he gets he’s gonna try to place doubt in their minds. Do we really want to add to that ourselves?”  
“Can’t we just kill him?” Pete asked with annoyance.

Patrick stared back, at first waiting for some sign that Pete was joking, but he wasn’t. In itself, it wasn’t so strange, after all they were vampire hunters, they had killed before, but somehow, it was the way he said it that rang alarm bells in Patrick’s head. Pete was changing.

“Pete!” Andy yelled again, this time the voice closer as Pete and Patrick heard the accompanying footsteps.

Stepping out into the corridor, Patrick readied himself for an argument about Spencer, forgetting initially that Joe and Andy were unaware that he had been rescued.

“Patrick!” Andy called; elated to see him. Rushing forward, Andy threw his arms around his friend. “How did…? Pete?”

Pete nodded, distracted to see Joe, half run, half walk to join them.

“Andrea?” he asked as Andy released Patrick from the hug.

Joe lowered his eyes and a heavy silence fell across the corridor.

“I’m sorry, Joe,” Pete said flatly.

In his mind, Joe’s thoughts were whirling. Part of him wanted to lash out. Pete had been so angry with him claiming that he cared too much for Andrea and not enough for Patrick. That he would risk Patrick’s life to save his precious girlfriend and yet, here was Patrick and Andrea was gone. Lashing out wouldn’t help. Pete had been wrong about him, but it wasn’t going to change anything to say so.

“Yeah,” Joe choked out.  
“What happened?” Patrick asked. Pete had alluded to an attack, but he wasn’t certain of the details.  
“Brendon attacked Andrea in her office,” Joe sighed deeply. “She never recovered.”  
“Her office?” Patrick cocked his head to one side. “How did he know where she worked?”  
“The Mayor’s office,” Pete blurted. “Where you were. That’s more than a coincidence! They must be living there.”  
“They’re doing more than that now,” Andy announced. “They’ve killed the Governor and probably the Mayor too. Beckett’s invested himself as Governor and put a dusk till dawn curfew on humans!”  
“He’s what!” Pete cried, astonished by the news. “People aren’t…”  
“The only humans outside were us,” Joe confirmed.  
“They’re gonna hate us,” Patrick’s brow furrowed at the sheer calculated guile.  
“No, Trick, they’re probably gonna kill us,” Andy replied, his expression as grim as the prediction.


	11. A Question of Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mayor Carden offers a reward for Andy and Joe's capture and the guys discuss trust

"You called for me, Master William?"  
"Ah, yes, Brendon, come in," Becket waved his hand to usher Brendon into the room. "Where is Michael?"  
"You want him too, William? I'll..."  
"No, Not yet, I just wanted to know what he's doing."  
"He's threatening the Press Office," Brendon replied with a smirk that could only be described as evil.  
Beckett raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Can there be anyone in the Press Office who isn't aware of what Michael will do to them if they don't comply?"  
"No," Brendon laughed at the idea, "I think he just likes it."  
"That sounds like him," Beckett couldn't help but return the laughter at the thought of it.  
"Shall I fetch him?" Brendon asked again.  
"No, there's no need. You can... No... tell him that I need him," Beckett nodded, "I have another decree to be issued."  
"You need him?"  
Beckett grinned at the expression on his Second's face. "My dear Brendon, you're not jealous again are you? You know I've warned you about that before now."  
"Yes, William," Brendon's voice dropped a tone as he acknowledged the reprimand.  
"Brendon, perhaps you were never aware because of the size of the Coven, but I would occasionally give each of my vampires a taste of what it's like to have my favour. That's all I'm doing now. Don't give in to your paranoia again Brendon, I have neither the patience nor the inclination to suffer it again."  
"I saved your life," Brendon muttered, knowingly risking Beckett's wrath.

The room hung in an unpleasant silence and the glare boring into him made Brendon feel increasingly uncomfortable. Before long, the waiting for the reprisal was more than he could bear.

"Master... I'm sorry, I... I don't know what... I'm sorry."  
"Be sure that you are, Brendon, I don't expect to have this conversation again. Now," Beckett deliberately lightened his tone. "Fetch Michael; I want the Press Office to issue the decree, but this time, it will be a statement from the Mayor."  
"The bounty?"  
"Yes, the next statement after this will be from the Chief of Police."  
"Me?" Brendon clarified.  
"You," Beckett confirmed.  
"But this one? You're really expecting Mike to come up with a decent wording for this statement?"  
"Don't underestimate him, Brendon, never underestimate anyone... much safer that way. I think in this you might be surprised, although, perhaps not on this occasion. I have already drafted the statement, all I want him to do is deliver it."  
Brendon smirked. "What does it say?"

Beckett reached into a folder and withdrew a solitary piece of paper and read aloud:

 

 _Wanted, for crimes against vampire communities - Joseph Trohman and Andrew Hurley._  
_A reward is to be offered of $50,000 each for the capture of these criminals - Alive, Dead or Undead_

 _By order,_  
_Mayor Michael Carden_

 

"Of course, there will be photographs to accompany the decree."  
"Only the two of them?"  
"Just the humans, the others will be dealt with under vampire laws," Beckett announced in a way that suggested that Brendon should know what he was talking about.  
"Vampire laws?" Brendon frowned; after his earlier criticism, he felt deeply uncertain whether or not to ask the question.  
"That’s the main reason I want you as Chief of Police and me as Governor and Chief Judge. Together we will lay down a series of laws to control vampires, covens and communities in this town. But most of all, we will determine the cruelest of fates for Patrick and Peter. Nothing will be too cruel for them. We shall, between us, make them suffer more they could ever imagine. Between us, we will make torture an art form. But for now, we will hound the humans and invite the public to do the same."  
"That's certainly enough to set even their friends against them," Brendon smiled broadly, returning the paper back to Beckett.  
"What friends?" Beckett returned the cruel smile. "They'll be very much on their own now, they won't be able to trust anyone, except possibly a vampire, one that they know is from an opposing Coven."  
“Saporta?” Brendon grinned.  
“Indeed,” Beckett returned the self-satisfied expression; he had thought of everything. “Well, at least they’ll think they can trust him.”  
"Master William?"

Beckett glanced up, surprised to hear Mike's voice coming from the doorway. Having grown tired of threatening people who were clearly already beyond terror, Mike had been more than ready to be called away.

"Ah, Michael, I was just asking Brendon if he would ask you to come to me." Beckett reached for the folder once more. "I need you to make a statement as Mayor to the now freshly terrified Press Office."  
"A statement?" Mike queried.  
"Just something to keep the pressure up on the hunters, I have something in mind."  
"Yes, Master, but before I do, you have a visitor."  
"A visitor?" Beckett frowned initially before turning the corners of his mouth up in a sly smile. "She's here? Show her in."

Mike pushed the door open further, wide enough to reveal, waiting outside, a woman with long auburn hair and pretty green eyes.

“Andrea, my dear, won’t you come in?” Beckett motioned for her to enter.

Curtseying low, Andrea greeted the vampire who had ordered her turning.

“Master William, it’s an honour to work for you.”  
“Rise,” Beckett ordered brusquely. “I have some questions for you first and a test.”  
“Yes, Master,” she nodded, standing upright once more and moving closer.  
“Brendon, Michael, that will be all for now,” Beckett dismissed them, before adding, “Michael, we will discuss your statement later. Eat, but remain available.”  
“Yes, Master William,” Mike replied as the pair left Beckett and Andrea alone in the office.

Beckett frowned intensely at Andrea, the expression on his face drawing only concern on hers.

“You seem unhappy, Master William,” she commented.  
“You were in love with Joseph.”

It wasn’t a question, it was a statement, and one that Beckett could neither understand nor approve, but the twitch of distaste that the comment brought to her face pleased him enormously.

“That was…” she frowned, “the pathetic whim of a human. I’m above that now, and glad of it.”  
“He believes you to be dead,” he explained.  
“I know, I remember his pitiful whining when the doctor told him to leave.”  
“Pitiful?”  
“Yes, pitiful – wretched, pathetic, contemptible. Not that I felt pity.”

The way she spoke; each of her words dripped contempt and almost shame for her previous liaison with the man whose life she had saved only days earlier.

“He tried to save your life,” Beckett continued testing her reactions. “Don’t you wish he had succeeded?”  
“Why?” she frowned, apparently confused by the question.  
“He loves you.”  
Andrea’s face blanked for a moment before she shook her head and laughed. “Am I supposed to care?”  
“No,” Beckett smirked. “No, not at all. Now, I have a task for you. I want you to torment Joseph. I want you to appear to him, but only him. Use your speed and agility to disappear before others see you. Haunt him like a ghost, do everything you can to make him miserable but don’t reveal yourself to be a vampire. Do you think you could do that?”  
“Yes, Master William,” Andrea smiled. “In fact, I was so keen to start, it was difficult for me to wait until tonight. I would happily have begun last night.”  
“Patience my dear,” Beckett raised a finger in the manner of a teacher to a pupil. “Humans break easily, but not these. No, these two will require special and careful handling. Joseph acts too much from the heart. Right now, that heart is broken, but that’s not enough, not nearly enough. I want you to shatter it.”  
“You can rely on me, Master William,” Andrea smiled. “By the time I’m through, he’ll wish he’d died the night of the trap you set.”

Beckett smiled proudly and happily. Everything was falling into place. The human population would hate the hunters because of the curfew, Joseph and Andrew were about to be hunted themselves, and Peter and Patrick would very probably befriend a vampire whose sole intention was to destroy them. And all the while, Peter would be struggling with his human blood addiction, losing more and more of his self-control with each drop. It was almost worth losing his mansion and coven for.

*

Hours before Beckett began advancing his plan to torment, torture and eventually kill the hunters, the quiet peace that had descended over the warehouse as dawn had approached was now coming to an end.

Patrick opened his eyes, blinking in the unexpected light. Above him, the cabinet door was already unlocked and open. Looking down at him expectantly, were Joe and Andy, while in the adjoining room, Patrick could hear a repeated dull but echoing metallic thud as Pete hammered on the inside of his cabinet.

Confused by the noise and the stern expressions aimed at him, Patrick frowned as he sat upright, only to see two taser batons brought into view.

“What...?” he asked slowly. “What’s going on?”  
“Get up,” Andy replied, his voice clipped and his gaze still severe.  
“What’s going on?” Patrick asked nervously. “What’s wrong with Pete?”  
“Get up!” Joe yelled angrily, reaching down and pulling at Patrick’s shirt in an attempt to hurry him along.  
“Okay! Okay!” Patrick cried defensively as he climbed out of the cabinet.  
“You’ve got some explaining to do,” Andy finally added.

Patrick nodded his understanding.

“Spencer, yes, I know, but dawn came before we could explain everything. You must understand that I...”  
“That’s not all that came,” Andy cut in as he kicked a box. “Care to explain this?”

Patrick stared silently at the box. He didn’t need to look inside it, he knew exactly what it was. The label clearly visible at the side was addressed to him, as administrator of the clinic that he had secretly set up over eight months earlier. Moreover, he could see that the box had already been opened and Andy and Joe knew about its contents.

“Well?” Joe prompted. “Are you going to tell us why you’re ordering human blood?”  
“You opened it?” Patrick asked quietly. He knew it was really a statement, but hoped it would buy him a few seconds to clear his mind.  
“Yeah,” Andy snapped. “We opened it. It arrived by courier this morning. We had to sign for it, but we had no idea what it was. Of course we opened it! It could have been anything! Beckett could have sent it! Anything!”  
“I didn’t think of that,” Patrick sighed.  
“Let me out of here!” Pete was easily audible even from the next room.  
“I need to calm Pete down,” Patrick sighed, heading towards the door only to be stopped in his tracks by the tasers pointed at him.  
“You’re not going anywhere until you explain this,” Joe replied grimly as he fired up the taser.  
Taking a step backward, Patrick replied, keeping his tone as even as he could. “I can and I will, but I need to calm Pete down, you don’t understand.”  
“You’re damn right we don’t, Patrick!” Andy yelled in reply. “You’re acting like it’s you and Pete and me and Joe now! It used to be the four of us! You can’t just go off on your own and keep us out but expect us to just trust you.”  
“You used to,” Patrick argued.  
“You never did this before!”  
“I did!” Patrick yelled in return. “But you just never noticed or something! I used to spend days in here, building gadgets and looking out for Pete, making sure his blend worked, writing my notes and journals and you never had a problem with it! Now, what’s the difference? Oh, yeah, that’s right, I’m a vampire, and all of a sudden I’m sneaking around, leaving you out of stuff and plotting against you? Is that it?”  
“You ordered a box of human blood! Damn it, Patrick, can you not see how that looks to us?”  
“I can explain!”  
“Damn right you will,” Andy growled. “Andy you’ll do it now. Sit down!”  
“This isn’t his fault!” Pete yelled from his own room, having heard the exchange. “Its mine! It’s fucking mine, okay! Let me out and I’ll tell you.”

_‘Pete, you’re not helping,’ Patrick contacted him telepathically. ‘Please be quiet! I’ll deal with it.’_   
_‘You’re always doing this.’_   
_‘What?’_   
_‘Clearing up my mess, fixing my mistakes, I don’t deserve any of this.’_   
_‘Yes you do, now shut up and let me do this!’_

“You did it again didn’t you?” Andy sighed shaking his head. “You spoke to him and you blocked us out.”  
“Yeah, I did, but you didn’t give me any choice. What makes you think that you can treat me like this just because I haven’t had time to explain everything? You’re my friends... at least, I thought you were. What changed?”  
Andy lowered the taser. “Everything,” he sighed.  
“What’s on your mind, Andy... I mean apart from this,” he added pointing to the open box.

Andy took a deep breath and rolled his eyes. Somehow Patrick always seemed to get to the very heart of a problem. Sometimes whoever he was speaking to didn’t even know there was a problem. But he always knew. He probably knew what the problem was too. It may just have been the impression he gave, but somehow there was no use lying to Patrick. He always knew.

“There’s been too much going on lately, too much going wrong,” Andy sighed. “Too many things I’ve got wrong. I don’t trust my own judgement any more, so I’m suspecting everything and everyone.”  
“What did you get wrong, Andy?” Patrick pressed, his voice soft and gentle.  
“I believed Brendon when he told me Joe betrayed us. I didn’t see it coming that Simon, a guy I brought in thinking he could help us, was the one who betrayed us. And I convinced Pete to turn you. As a result, I nearly died, we almost lost Pete and you’ve been thrown into a world you didn’t want to be in. And finally, the worst of it...” Andy paused, trying to choke back the lump that had grown in his throat. “The worst of it is, I believed Joe cared more about rescuing Andrea than you. And you know, what did it matter if he did? There were still three of us wanting to help you, he just wanted to help Andrea too. We acted too late and now she’s gone and what can I say? My judgement and decisions lately have been bordering on useless and pathetic. And now? Now I’m doubting everything I was ever sure of... Including you.”

Joe turned a surprised gaze towards his friend. They were all suffering, yes and all of them for different reasons, but he had no idea how much blame Andy had taken upon his own shoulders.

“Andy,you can’t blame yourself for any of that,” Joe insisted. “I don’t blame you for thinking I betrayed you. If it were the other way around, I’d have believed him too. And there was nothing you could have done for Andrea that you didn’t do. If it weren’t for you, I’d still be at her office. Ou did everything you could, for both of us!”  
“And none of us saw that Simon was working for Beckett,” Patrick added.  
“But I brought him in!” Andy insisted, tormented now that they didn’t share his belief that he should be blamed.  
“You might as well give up, Andy,” Joe switched off the taser as he shook his head. “We’re never going to accept that you’re to blame for any of this.”  
“But...”  
“Sit down, please,” Patrick gestured to a table and four chairs. “I want to explain everything. Spencer, the box, everything.”

Taking a seat at the table, Andy began to feel as if his trust in Patrick was no longer misplaced. Wanting more than anything for the group to be as tight-knit as they had always been, Andy folded his arms in front of him and prepared to listen. Patrick noted with a smile that Andy had made a point of resting the taser on the floor behind him, in the full knowledge that if he needed it, there would be insufficient time to reach it.

“Spencer’s been hounding Pete, trying to play on his insecurities,” Patrick began to explain only to be interrupted.  
“What’s he doing here? I thought he was dead. Pete said...” Joe queried.  
“It’s a long story,” Patrick sighed. “Suffice to say, his own servant, another vampire called Ryan gave up his life for him.”  
“And now what? You say he’s hounding Pete. How? And why is he in the cage?”  
“I just thought he could do less harm there than anywhere else.”  
“He just let you lock him up?” Joe frowned.  
“More or less,” Patrick nodded.  
“He’s working on something,” Andy joined in with his own concern. “He’s dangerous.”  
“I know,” Patrick agreed, “but that doesn’t mean he can get the better of us, just because he wants to. That isn’t his main priority anyway, he wants Beckett dead as much as we do. He might be useful.”  
“I don’t trust him,” Joe announced.  
“Good!” Patrick replied emphatically. “Because he can’t be trusted!”  
“And the box?” Andy prompted.  
“Yeah,” Patrick sighed. “That’s a little more serious.”


	12. The Box

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick explains the contents of the box

“That sounds ominous,” Joe frowned at Patrick’s words.  
“Look,” Patrick sighed as he tried desperately to think of a way to phrase what had happened so that Joe and Andy felt pity rather than fear towards Pete. “There’s no easy way to say this so I’ll just get straight to the point. Since Pete drank my blood, he hasn’t been able to keep down the blend I created for him.”

Saying nothing, Andy and Joe fixed Patrick with expectant eyes, forcing him to explain further. Nothing about their expressions gave away what they might be thinking and Patrick was finding it unnerving, to say the least.

“In fact,” he paused, wanting desperately to read their thoughts, but forcing himself not to, “he can’t take animal blood at all any more.”

The reaction was obvious as his friends recoiled in shock. The admission, put together with the contents of the box, meant only one thing - Pete was stuck on human blood now. One question remained.

“Has he killed?” Andy asked quietly.  
“He tried draining vampires,” Patrick skirted around the truth. “He thought that second-hand human blood might be sufficient.”  
“And was it?”  
“Andy, it’s not that simple, he...”  
“Trick, it’s yes or no, it really is that simple,” Andy pressed. “Has he killed?”  
“Yes,” Patrick whispered; his attempt to explain without scaring them had failed.

Andy and Joe remained silent, simply staring, uncertain how to react to the information. Patrick took the opportunity to speak first and try to redeem the situation.

“He’s frightened, Andy,” he continued. “And, yes, he’s killed but I spoke to him about it. It wasn’t just a random, unthinking action; he killed a man who was attacking a woman. The guy was a rapist, possibly a murderer. You see?”  
“Oh don’t pull this guilt trip on us!” Joe complained. “He killed a man! I don’t condone what the guy was doing, but it doesn’t take away the fact that Pete killed him!”

Perhaps it was his own relatively new vampire point of view, but Patrick was finding it increasingly difficult to understand why Joe and Andy couldn’t see that Pete was fighting what was happening to him and desperately needed their help. Yes he had killed, but he had to eat – why couldn’t they see that? Was it unreasonable? Patrick was growing increasingly uncertain of his own opinions and motives. But he had no other course of action, he had to defend Pete, protect him. 

“Joe, Pete’s scared! The last thing he wants is to kill anyone, but he’s addicted, he can’t help it.” Patrick frowned; was his point of view now so far removed from theirs? Had he changed so subtly that he couldn’t see it himself? “Don’t you see that?” he added, possibly giving away his own doubts and fears.  
“He’s not safe anymore,” Andy almost posed it half way between a statement and a question.  
“He is!” Patrick insisted. “Don’t you understand? He came to me, he needs help... He wants help! I’m going to try to get him off it, but in the meantime, he has to eat something and he doesn’t want to kill anyone to do it. That’s why I ordered the blood,” he finally sighed.  
“You can get him off it?” Andy asked quietly.  
Patrick looked down and sighed heavily. “I don’t know,” he admitted, “I really don’t know, but I’m not going to give up on him!”  
“That was below the belt,” Joe grumbled.  
Patrick exhaled noisily. “I didn’t mean it to sound like that. I wasn’t saying that you were giving up on him, just that I wasn’t going to just assume that I couldn’t get him off human blood just because Spencer says I can’t.”  
“Spencer knows?” Joe raised his eyebrows.  
“Yeah,” Patrick frowned. The conversation was spiralling away from him. “I told you he was hounding him.”  
“So.” Somehow, Andy’s voice sounded calm, determined and focussed, now bringing the emotive conversation to a grinding halt. “It’s like a drug addiction, but if he doesn’t get it he’ll die?”  
“Yeah,” Patrick nodded, glad to have some apparent order and composure once more.  
“Okay,” Andy nodded to himself. “And even though he killed a guy, he deliberately found a guy who didn’t deserve to live anyway?”  
“Yeah,” Patrick nodded again.  
“That’s not our call, Andy and you…” Joe cut in, only to be interrupted.  
“Let me run with this, Joe. I want to try to see it from a vampire perspective,” Andy explained.  
“There’s a different perspective?” Patrick’s eyes widened.  
Andy nodded slowly. “I didn’t see it before, not when it was just Pete, but yeah, you have very distinct views and priorities.”  
“Like staying alive?” Patrick grumbled.  
Andy smiled faintly and took a deep breath. “No, that’s no different in itself, but there are fewer grey areas for a vampire, aren’t there?”  
“I like to think we’re not typical vampires,” Patrick replied indignantly.  
“No, you’re not, and that’s what makes it harder for us. You’re not evil by any stretch of the imagination, but you do approach problems in a much more direct way, which can be a shock to us, because we’re just not expecting it.”  
“What do you mean?” Patrick frowned, not seeing Andy’s point.  
“Pete had to eat, so he had to kill and you accept that without question.”  
“No I don’t!” Patrick protested.  
“Yes you do,” Andy insisted. “You’re shocked and upset that he’s in the position he’s in, but you accept that he had to do it.”

Patrick’s frown turned almost to a guilty expression as he realised that Andy was right and that neither he nor Joe had the luxury of that acceptance. They understood in theory, of course, but the idea, no matter how apparently justified was still abhorrent to them.

“And that’s the difference,” Andy added following Patrick’s silence. “But, your point is that he still has the control to choose what to do about it and to try to find help.”  
“Yes,” Patrick nodded, still surprised to have his newly and unexpectedly different mindset pointed out to him.  
“So, he can eat this blood and he’ll be okay?” Andy checked Patrick’s reasoning.  
“That’s the idea,” Patrick nodded, relieved that Andy was making so much effort to understand.  
“You think he’s safe?” Andy asked. “Or, more to the point, we’re safe?”  
“Definitely,” Patrick nodded. “No doubt in my mind.”  
“All right,” Andy nodded slowly. “I trust you, both of you.”  
“Andy?” Joe asked, his tone one of great surprise.  
“Joe… I’ve been wrong about a lot lately; my instincts are shot to pieces. Right now I need to fall back on what I knew to be true... once. Patrick, if you say Pete’s trustworthy, then I’m happy to accept that.”  
“Thank you,” Patrick almost stammered, barely believing what he had heard. “Joe?”

Joe felt awkward. Andy had just announced his faith in both Patrick and Pete and now all eyes were on him for a similar commitment. He couldn’t do it, not so directly. Patrick had always told him to act from the head not the heart. It had always been a difficult concept for him and right now, his heart was broken. More than ever, and possibly just like Andy, Joe was confused and finding it hard to trust his own instincts. Perhaps somewhat out of character for him, Andy found that he had needed to take a leap of faith, but, by contrast, Joe now needed safety and reassurance.

“No… I’m not saying I don’t trust anyone,” Joe replied carefully, “but, I’m gonna play it by ear.”  
“Okay,” Patrick nodded thoughtfully. “That’s better than I expected.”  
“I guess we should let him out then?” Andy suggested.

Joe nodded his approval, but Patrick couldn’t help but notice that, as he did, Joe’s fingers tightened slightly on the taser. Joe’s normally trusting nature was, with the rest of him, in turmoil and this new development was proving too difficult to accept. But he had agreed to try and that was more than Patrick and Pete had reasonably expected, even from their closest friends.

“Okay,” Andy gave a sigh as he stood up and plucked the key from his pocket. “I…”  
“I’ll do it,” Patrick cut in. “If you don’t mind? I need to talk to him. This is a real shock to him too and, well, you know what he’s like. I don’t want him antagonising you just because he’s confused or scared.”  
“I heard that!” Pete yelled irritably from the next room.  
“Good!” Patrick yelled back. “It’ll be one thing less to tell you later!”

The corners of Andy’s mouth rose at Patrick’s reply. They had all been through a lot, and were still suffering greatly, both as individuals and as a group. But he could see that there was a light at the end of the tunnel now, and hopefully, it wasn’t an oncoming train.

Joe was less convinced that they were making the right decisions. Despite Patrick’s assurances, he wasn’t even fully convinced that he could trust Pete with his newfound addiction. Something he was even less inclined to admit was that he was sinking into a depression. His mistrust may even have been greater if he were able to work his way past the apathy he currently felt. The loss of Andrea, despite their brief relationship, had left him shattered and even believing that if Pete were to kill him, he’d barely make the effort to stop him. Right now, he felt lost, hopeless and desperately in need something to lift him and help him get back on track. Silently, he hoped he would find it sooner rather than later.

*

Joe and Andy watched silently as Patrick headed towards Pete’s room to release him from the cabinet. In his hand he held a couple of packets of blood.

“Patrick!” Andy called as his friend had almost left the room.  
Turning, Patrick raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”  
“Those blood packets?”

Patrick frowned, hoping that he was wrong about what was to follow. 

“They are both for Pete, aren’t they?” Andy continued.  
Patrick lowered his eyes, glowering. “You had to say it, didn’t you?”  
Andy nodded. “I was just... I’m sorry, I was just thinking that you... I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m really sorry, Patrick.”

Patrick’s expression softened to a slightly saddened and tired expression.

“It’s okay,” he sighed before turning away.  
“Damn it, Patrick!” Andy yelled in return making both Patrick’s and Joe’s heads snap up. “I’m really sorry and it’s not okay! How can you just accept it? I just told you that I trust you and now I say that! How can...” Andy screamed his frustration as he turned away. “What the hell has happened to us?”

A silence fell over the room as each of them pondered the question, Andy still unable to turn back to face Patrick. 

“You say I act too much from my heart,” Joe began slowly and quietly, “well, perhaps that’s true, but I think that, maybe, we’re all doing it at the moment. We’re frustrated that we’ve had so much to deal with, so much change, and pain and all for nothing. Beckett’s still alive. In fact, worse than that, he’s more powerful than ever and... He’s destroying us without even being near us. What he did to Pete... Draining him, starving him... It was the start of it all, a snowball effect. It’s tearing us apart because we’re handling it so badly... because, we don’t want to handle it.”

Still facing away, Andy’s shoulders sagged and he nodded sadly.

“So what do we do?” he finally managed, unaware that Patrick had approached and was now just inches behind him.  
“We be honest with each other, like we always were,” Patrick sighed placing a hand on Andy’s shoulder. “We look after each other like we always did.”  
Andy nodded slowly. “You’re right, you’re both right. What’s really changed?” he turned with almost an excited gleam in his eyes. “Well, obviously you have,” he smiled at Patrick. “But not the real you. You’re still you. Do you see what I mean? I’m the one that really changed! I hugged you the moment I saw you, because I knew you were still you. I didn’t think about it, I didn’t need to. It’s all that business with Simon. Finding out that a close friend was working for Beckett, you know? It’s really thrown me off balance; I’m lashing out at you and Pete and it’s really Simon I’m angry at. I can’t explain it, and I’m not making sense, I know.”  
“You are, Andy, really,” Patrick nodded. “It never occurred to me, but you’re right, that’s totally normal and hard to recognise, so it’s amazing you have!”

Andy offered Patrick a brief smile, cut off as he turned slightly as his vampire hearing picked up a deep sigh coming from within Pete’s cabinet.

“I’ll let you out soon, Pete,” Patrick promised looking back with a nod towards Andy as if asking permission.  
“Let me out now,” Pete called back, loud enough only for Patrick’s hearing.

Somehow the tone of his voice conveyed to them that he was neither angry nor impatient, but deeply troubled.

“I think Pete wants to say something too,” he told Andy and Joe warily, uncertain what their response would be.  
“I think you should let him out anyway,” Andy confirmed. “It isn’t fair on him.”

Nodding gratefully, Patrick left his room and headed for Pete’s. Almost as soon as the lock was removed, Pete was pushing the cabinet door open, almost shoving Patrick backwards and making him lose his balance.

“Hey!” Patrick cried in surprise as Pete was out of the cabinet in the blink of an eye and snatched the blood packets from his friend’s hands.  
“What?” he mumbled between frantic swallows. “You want me to go in there hungry?”  
“No,” Patrick sighed, feeling increasingly as if acceptance would not be forthcoming from Pete nor by Andy or Joe. “I guess not.”  
“Stop that,” Pete turned a stern glare towards his friend.  
“Stop what?” Patrick was almost going through the motions of civility now.  
“I need you, Trick.” Pete replied unexpectedly. “You’re the reason I’ve survived so long. You’ve kept me alive. But more than that, because of you I’m good and I’m still sane. Don’t ever think I don’t appreciate it.”  
“Pete…” Patrick began, not knowing quite what to say to the surprisingly open and honest reply.  
“Now,” Pete continued squeezing the last few drops out of the blood packet. “Let’s set Andy straight.”  
“Pete?” Patrick ventured as his friend walked past him.  
“Yeah?” Pete turned and raised an eyebrow.  
“What’s it like?” Patrick’s expression was almost one of guilt for asking.  
“I don’t ever want you to find out, Trick,” Pete shook his head. “It’s like a really powerful drug; one sip and you’re hooked. But just like a drug, eventually it’ll kill me.”  
   
Patrick frowned. There it was again: the feeling that Pete had already given up. And here he was telling him how much he appreciated him and was about to say something to put aside Andy’s concerns. It was almost as if he was putting things in order, setting things straight as he had put it. The more Patrick thought about it, the more it scared him. To all intent and purpose, Pete was preparing to die.  
   
“Something like that,” Pete offered Patrick a weak smile, unable top stop Patrick’s concerns filtering into his own mind.  
“But, Pete, this is the first step,” Patrick argued. “With this I can at least stop you having to eat humans.”  
“Patrick, don’t think I don’t appreciate what you’re doing, but you must know that this is, at best, delaying the inevitable,” Pete’s voice was calm, expectant. Patrick was worried; he sounded as if he had made his peace and was simply accepting his fate.  
“No, Pete! I won’t accept it. I’m going to fix this!”  
   
Pete smiled, his eyes filled with sadness and regret, but his words told another story.  
   
“Trick, yeah, this satisfies my basic hunger and will probably stop me wanting to eat a human, and that’s great, but it’s not that simple.”  
“Then we’ll work on it. I’ll find the answer, Pete.”  
   
There was that expression again. What did he know that he wasn’t saying? Did he know anything or was he just scared? He didn’t seem scared, in fact quite the opposite. An air of calm hung around him and whatever it was, he wasn’t fighting it.  
   
“Come on,” Pete shrugged as he walked to Patrick’s room, sighing as he pushed the door open. “Okay,” he began on seeing Joe and Andy. “You never doubted Patrick until I put that doubt there and that was just me and my stupid jealousy. It hurt me that you didn’t trust me when I escaped from Beckett’s and you kept me locked up for fourteen weeks and yet you accepted Patrick instantly. I know what I’ve been like since I got back, angry, bitter and wallowing deep in my own self-pity, but I never got the impression that I had any pity other than my own. All I ever got was mistrust and by the time you did trust me, I guess I’d given you no reason to sympathise with me either.”

Andy and Joe merely stared for a few seconds before Andy glanced at Patrick who offered a confused shrug in reply. Pete had never been that Frank with them and it was coming as something of a surprise to them all. Andy gathered his wits and tried to explain.

“It was different though, Pete,” Andy began. “You turned Patrick, it happened here and we were on hand for the change and everything after. And we’re more experienced now. When you came back, you had simply disappeared; you were turned by Beckett and at his mansion for eleven weeks. You said that you’d escaped, but seriously, Pete, would you have believed that if it had been, say, me coming here, one of Beckett’s vampires wanting you to believe that it wasn’t a trap?”

Pete lowered his eyes and nodded. The difference between their circumstances was immeasurable and somehow, he had simply not seen it.

“I told you, selfish jealousy,” he replied without looking up.  
“But if you’d known why we thought it was different?”  
Pete looked up and offered a plaintive smile. “You know me well enough by now, Andy, I suppose it might have made a difference, but probably not.”  
“Pete, you’re no fool,” Joe added comfortingly.  
“No, I’m not, but I am a lot of other things.” Pete sighed. “Either way, I’m sorry I caused all this confusion and Joe?”

Joe looked up, certain that he knew what was coming but still finding it hard to believe.

“I’m sorry about Andrea, I really am. I wish I could have prevented that.”  
“You tried, we all did,” Joe replied sadly.  
“I told you a while back that I owed you much more than an apology, hopefully, that’s a good start.”

Silence hung over the small group until finally Patrick spoke up.

“Well, I guess I should feed Spencer and then I’ve got a lot of work to do.”  
“I’m looking into Beckett’s decree, find out how far it’s spread, see if other covens have taken it out of town,” Andy announced.  
“Don’t go outside,” Patrick warned. “It’s too dangerous right now.”

Andy nodded, seemingly in agreement and accepting the sound advice, but it was obvious from his expression that he resented the restriction of his liberty. 

“I didn’t sleep,” Joe sighed. “I’m going to have an hour or so, if I can.”  
“And I’m...”

Pete was interrupted by a short sharp rap on the door. “I’m going to see who that is, because it shouldn’t be anyone.”  
“Be careful,” Patrick warned.   
Pete looked in the direction of the door as another knock came, louder than before. “I’m not the one who’ll need to be careful.”


	13. Break the Link

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Master Saporta has some unwelcome news for Pete and Beckett surprises Brendon with some very good news

Patrick followed Pete as he headed for the door with another couple of blood packets in his hand for Spencer.

“That was...” he began.  
“It needed saying,” Pete interrupted.  
“Pete... I... I’m worried about you. The way you’ve been talking, you sound like you’re giving up,” Patrick said with concern and caution.  
“Trick...” Pete paused to think how to phrase his next words. “I know how I sound, but I also know what’s happening to me.”  
“What’s happening? What do you mean?” Patrick stopped in his tracks, pulling at Pete’s arm to hold him back.  
“You wouldn’t... I can’t explain,” Pete replied evasively.  
“Go on, Wentz!” Spencer yelled from within the cage. “Tell him! Or are you too afraid they’ll just finish you off?”  
“Pete?” Patrick pressed again, ignoring Spencer’s inflammatory remark, only to be interrupted by increasingly furious hammering on the door.  
“I gotta get that before they break it down.”  
“Pete!”  
“Later Trick,” Pete replied sadly.

Walking briskly to the door, happy to leave the overly inquisitive Patrick behind him, Pete checked the cameras and raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Well now,” he narrowed his eyes as he opened the door to the Vampire Coven Leader. “What are you doing here, Saporta?”  
“Master Saporta,” came the growled reply.  
“Master!” Pete laughed loudly and openly at the suggestion. “Think yourself lucky to get anything civil out of me!”  
“You think you’re something special, Wentz, but you’re nothing and, without my help, soon you’ll be less than that!”  
“What is it with the vampire community all of a sudden? Everyone seems to be falling over themselves to help me. Got a friendly streak out of nowhere, did you? What’s your angle Saporta?”  
“Invite me in and I’ll tell you.”

Pete shook his head and chuckled lightly to himself.

“Do you honestly think I’m that stupid?” Pete glared, suddenly turning a serious expression at the visiting vampire.  
“Then come with me, somewhere neutral. You have nothing to fear from me, you know how much I hate Beckett.”  
“That means nothing,” Pete snorted. “You’re not exactly alone, even amongst vampires. I don’t know many who do like him, apart from the dumb lapdogs like Brendon that beg his favour.”  
“He’s getting too powerful,” Saporta got straight to the point. “I want him finished. I thought you’d managed it, but he’s like a damned cat, too many lives!”  
“If you want it that bad then why don’t you do it?” Pete leaned against the door frame and folded his arms.  
“I can’t do it alone and neither can you.”  
“I’m not alone,” Pete smirked.

Pausing for full effect with the purpose of gaining Pete’s full attention, Saporta continued in a hushed voice.

“You will be,” he smiled maliciously. “Word is you’re hooked on human blood. You might get away without killing for it...”  
“How do you know about that?” Pete returned, pushing himself away from the doorframe once more, shaken by his knowledge.  
“Everyone knows you drained and turned Patrick. Very little happens in vampire circles without the knowledge of it spreading, you know that. But I also know you’re not killing. Drinking donated blood are you?”  
“How do you know?” Pete asked, defiantly.  
Saporta laughed. “Don’t be so defensive, Wentz! I can smell it on you, blood, but no adrenaline. Tastes sour, doesn’t it?”  
“It’s okay,” Pete mumbled in reply.  
“At least admit it to yourself, if not me,” Saporta replied scornfully. “But you know it’s eating away at you. The kill is only half the story, you know that as well as I do. Every drop you drink, either from a packet or a body, diminishes your self control. Before long, you won’t be able to stop yourself killing and soon after that, you won’t even care... and you’re terrified.”  
“Don’t you think I know that?” Pete hissed angrily in return. “Why are you here? Why now? You could have come with offers to help any time, but no, you come now. Why?”  
“Why?” Gabe snapped back. “Why does it matter? You wouldn’t have believed me whenever I came here, would you?”  
Pete thought for a moment before shaking his head. “No, and I still don’t believe you.”  
“What the hell do you think I’m here for then?” Gabe challenged.  
“Well, that’s the real question, isn’t it?” Pete cocked his head at the vampire leader. “Maybe you’re trying to make a peace offering with Beckett? Maybe you’re…”  
“Maybe I’m wasting my time?” Saporta sneered and turned to leave.

Watching him walk away for a few seconds, Pete chewed his lower lip. He thought back to his time at Beckett’s mansion after he was first turned. Saporta had been there and there had been a war of words and almost fangs between him and Beckett. Pete didn’t know the cause of the problem, but everyone in the whole mansion was aware of the bad feeling between them. It seemed unlikely to him that they had now formed a truce, but he had underestimated Saporta’s greed and lust for power and the depths to which he would sink to gain any power.

“Wait!” he called.

Before turning, Saporta’s mouth spread into a wide grin. He had him! He had piqued his interest. Turning slowly, Saporta cocked his head inquisitively.

“Yes?”  
“How can you help?” Pete asked quietly.  
“There is only one way to beat the addiction,” Saporta announced.  
“How?” Pete whispered.  
“If you had simply killed, you wouldn’t feel it quite so keenly and you would, perhaps, be able to control your bloodlust still.”  
“What are you getting at?” Pete asked, his eyes narrowing.  
“Oh, I think you know, Wentz,” Saporta nodded meaningfully. “I think you’ve know all along and it’s why you won’t tell him.”  
“What are you talking about?” Pete asked, barely daring to think the thoughts racing around his mind.  
“You’re connected to your original blood source. It never happens. Newborn vampires take their first blood, usually without thinking about it. Then maybe decades later, they turn someone, making their first fledgling vampire. You? Well, you did it all in one hit and your body can’t handle it.”  
“What do I do?”  
Saporta shook his head. “You? You do nothing because you haven’t got the guts to do what you need to do.”  
“What do I do?” Pete repeated, still keeping his voice low but with a sense of urgency to his tone.  
“Break the link,” Saporta shrugged.  
“Break…?” Pete frowned deeply.  
“Kill your fledgling. It’s the only way you’ll survive.”  
“No… No! There has to be another way!” Pete argued, his demeanor bordering on panic.  
“You know there isn’t.”  
“You’re lying!” Pete snapped defiantly.  
“Lying?” Saporta snorted. “I have nothing to gain from telling you this, have I? In fact, if you do it, there are fewer of you to kill Beckett! If you do this, I lose out! Get your head out of the sand, Wentz. It’s you or him. Now there’s a decision for you and time is not on your side. The more blood you drink, the more your instincts will take over and soon the decision will be made for you.”

Pete grew pale and silent at the words. Kill himself or kill Patrick – was that really his choice? 

Inwardly, Saporta chuckled to himself. Wentz had fallen for his lies – hook line and sinker.

*

Joe stared blankly at the ceiling of his room. He couldn’t sleep. He hadn’t slept properly since Andrea’s death. A few snatches of a light restless sleep here and there, perhaps. But they were filled with disturbing images and thoughts. Despite the fact that he was desperately tired, Joe simply couldn’t find the rest he needed so badly.

“Joe! Joe, help me!”

Joe’s eyes flew open in panic. Had he really heard that? Or maybe he was dreaming whilst awake? Was he so tired he was imagining it? 

“Joe! Please help me!”

Now on his feet, Joe darted to the small round window. There was now no doubt in his mind that he had heard Andrea and she was alive! Despite what the doctors had said, despite Joe himself seeing the heart monitor flatlining, he now managed to convince himself that Andrea was calling to him. It was only when he approached the window and finally a coherent thought slowly sank into his exhausted yet hopeful mind, did he realize how impossible it was.

It was impossible, but there she was, standing outside the warehouse staring up at him.

“Andrea?” Joe whispered, unable to believe his own eyes, but unwilling to doubt them. Turning for the briefest of moments to the door, Joe yelled. “Andy!” but by the time he turned back, she was gone.  
“What is it?” Andy arrived, skidding to a halt at the door. “What’s wrong?” he asked with concern.  
“I… I… I’m sorry,” Joe shook his head, not wanting to reveal what he thought he had seen and make himself appear foolish. “I… I’m sorry, I’m over tired, it’s nothing.”  
“You okay, man?” Andy asked unwilling to accept the stammered reply.  
“I… yeah… yeah, I’m just tired. Sorry, Andy, I didn’t mean to worry you. I must have been dreaming.”

Joe frowned and lay down once more as Andy nodded and closed the door over once more. It had felt so real.

*

“What’s wrong, William?” Brendon frowned as he stood in the doorway, looking in on his master, staring apparently at nothing. “Master?” he pressed.

A slight frown fleetingly graced Beckett’s lips before he blinked and glanced up from his apparent trance; a superior smile forming slowly on his lips.

“You were miles away,” Brendon added with concern.  
“I actually was, my dear, Brendon,” Beckett sighed as he looked up.   
“Master?” Brendon frowned in confusion at the words, not knowing quite how to take the statement, little believing that he had meant it literally.  
“I was viewing the warehouse through the eyes of Andrea,” he finally explained.  
“Really?” Brendon replied, impressed by Beckett’s abilities. “But… That really is miles away! How?”

Beckett smiled as he rose and rounded the desk. His second was keen to learn, but Beckett was equally as keen to restrict his abilities. It was useful, of course, to have a strong lieutenant, but just not too strong. He knew how ambitious Brendon was and strongly suspected that his loyalty ran only to the point that Beckett was able to maintain control, or more accurately, keep control over him. If the day ever dawned that Brendon was capable of gaining the advantage over or even killing his master, well… Well, William couldn’t honestly say with any certainty whether Brendon would take the opportunity. It was not something he intended to put to the test. No, Brendon would now and always be kept very firmly on a long but secure leash. 

Mike Carden on the other hand was a different problem altogether. If Brendon was an Alsatian: keen and alert, clever and loyal, Michael was like a mongrel puppy: rough around the edges, excitable and unpredictable. More worrying than anything was his reckless nature. There were times that Beckett found himself thinking that he had to watch the younger vampire a little too closely. In a large coven, it hadn’t been quite so necessary; Michael was never going to reach the heights that Brendon commanded. But in a coven with only two other vampires, Michael was now worryingly senior and Beckett’s concerns were as high as Michael’s ambitions. But now was not the time to dwell on the matter, now was the time to celebrate their control over the hunters, especially as they were unaware of it.

“It’s all going beautifully to plan, my dear Brendon,” Beckett smirked as he leaned back against the desk, stretching out his long legs in front of him, casually placing one foot across the other. “Joseph believes he has seen Andrea, that somehow she has returned to him. Of course, soon, he’ll realise the sheer impossibility of it and he’ll crush himself with fear and doubt over his sanity. And Peter,” he chuckled maliciously. “Well, Peter has fallen for every word Saporta has told him. It’s almost too delicious!”  
“You’re serious?” Brendon barely even tried to suppress his laughter. “He really believes that killing Patrick would release him from his addiction.”  
“Apparently so,” Beckett nodded with a broad smile.  
“And you still want him?” Brendon scowled turning away in distaste. “How could you possibly be impressed by such naivety?”  
“Now, now, Brendon,” Beckett folded his arms. “There’s no need for jealousy.”  
“Jealous!” Brendon spun around, aghast at the idea only to see the smirk fixed on his master’s face, reducing his reaction to a self-conscious pout. “I’m not jealous,” he added.

Jealousy could all too easily have been his motive. Beckett knew that, even Brendon did, but Beckett’s attitude only served to confirm, even to Brendon, that he had nothing to be jealous over. Perhaps it was his own precarious position with the loss of his home and coven, but Beckett seemed unwilling to give Brendon the opportunity for misunderstanding and was willing to explain himself - To Brendon, it seemed quite out of character, but a welcome change. 

“You needn’t worry, my friend, I told you - you’re my second and always will be. Peter? I wanted him for a task, merely for a task and that… well, I’ve stopped imagining that will ever work out. But now, because of me, he’s strong, too strong to have as an enemy. And now, he is… just something to be crushed. But not too quickly, not without suffering. And that… yes, my dear Brendon, is the most important element. Don’t ever forget that.”  
“No, Master William,” Brendon replied, slightly confused by Beckett’s speech.  
“You made him strong? He fed from you?”  
“Yes, Brendon, does that bother you?” Beckett smiled maliciously, knowing which way the conversation was headed.  
“Can I?”  
“No,” came the sharp reply.  
“But… he… Why?”  
“Because my intentions for Peter were only ever to use him and then kill him. That is not something I have in mind for you. It was a level of suffering I was prepared to withstand if it achieved my aims.” Beckett’s expression darkened. “And now, he is going to repay me for every second of the terrible draining sensation each time he fed from me.”  
“Last time you tried to make him suffer he nearly killed us,” Brendon grumbled, momentarily looking down as he sighed.  
“Brendon,” Beckett’s voice sounded harsh and clipped. “Don’t imagine that I won’t punish you for remarks like that. You are my second, not my equal!”

Brendon glanced up to stare at Beckett. There was a time when a comment like that would send Brendon almost grovelling for forgiveness, but now only a staring match existed between the two as they stood in silence, only feet apart.

“Perhaps an equal partnership would be fairer?” Brendon raised an eyebrow, only to lower his gaze at his master’s furious glare.  
“Well, I’ll tell you what, Brendon,” Beckett smirked as Brendon sank slowly to his knees gripping his temples, his face contorted in agony. “We’ll consider an equal partnership when you can do this, shall we?”

Falling forward, first to his knees and then to all fours, Brendon barely heard Beckett’s next words.

“When you’re able to apologise for your behaviour, do, and I’ll release you.”  
“Mas… Master!” Brendon gasped, unable to say more.  
“A full apology, Brendon,” Beckett sighed as he leaned back once more against the desk. “You really must learn how far you’re able to push… but stop beforehand. You know me, Brendon. You know what I’ll take and what I won’t. All this…” Beckett paused as Brendon fell to his side, gasping and writhing. “It’s all so very unnecessary. I’ll leave you to think things over,” Beckett added slyly as he headed for the door.  
“William…” Brendon croaked between agonising bursts of pain running behind his eyes.  
“I’ll be back later,” Beckett frowned deeply as he looked down disapprovingly at his disobedient second. “For your apology.”  
“Master!” Brendon begged to no avail, curling up even further as Beckett turn quickly on his heels and left him alone in the office.

*

Andy frowned; he was tired. In truth he was probably less tired than Joe, but he had seen to that problem already. He didn’t normally approve of such things, but the situation was getting desperate with Joe. He had acted strangely earlier in the evening and several times after that. Finally breaking down, Joe had admitted that he felt he was losing his mind, that Andrea had appeared to him several times that evening and each time, in the blink of an eye she had disappeared. Not, however, before telling him that she blamed him for her death. Joe had been pale, distraught, and so strung out as to be near breaking point. It was then that Andy had done it. Slipping something into a drink had been the easy part, getting him to drink it had been harder. So agitated, Joe had put the glass down with disturbing frequency that Andy was beginning to fell that something was telling him that it was a bad idea. Finally forcing the drink back into Joe’s hand, he had simply insisted that he drink it. He didn’t know if Joe had guessed his intention or not, but he drank the contents dutifully before returning to his room. Andy felt guilty. It was very possibly just delaying the inevitable, but there was at least the possibility that when he woke he might be refreshed enough to think clearly.

Glancing at the Holy Water bottle, Andy frowned, wishing they had managed to get more when they obtained the last batch. What they could really use were gallon jugs of the stuff, they got through so much. Andy liked to drink it too, he imagined that if he drank Holy water, if a vampire ever did get hold of him, that he would at least burn his mouth trying to drink his blood. He laughed at the idea of even bathing in it – it would make a wonderful repellent! The priest was due to arrive soon, and their stocks would be replenished. 

The rapping on the outer door came as a surprise to Andy. Looking at his watch it seemed that the priest was nearly thirty minutes early. Walking briskly to the door, Andy quickly checked the cameras beyond the door. In the dim sunshine of the cold late afternoon it was reasonably easy to see the man standing in the doorway, but on checking the other cameras, Andy frowned as he noticed that two of the monitors were blank. Making a mental note to get Patrick to check them when he woke, Andy opened the door. 

“Father Nichols?” Andy queried.

Not even receiving an answer, Andy cried out in surprise as two men rolled into view from either side of the doorway and dragged him outside. Stumbling as they pushed him to the ground, Andy landed on his hands and knees before crashing to floor as a baseball bat crashed across his back. Winded and breathless, it was only a matter of moments before a similar blow to the back of his head sent him reeling into unconsciousness.

“What about the other one?” a voice asked.  
“I’m not going in there! There’re vampires in there!” another replied.  
“It’s daylight, they can’t hurt you!” said the third.  
“It’s dark in there!” the other jabbed a finger in the direction of the interior of the warehouse. “I’m not risking it.”  
“Huh,” the first man added, now uncertain himself. “Well… there’s a good enough reward for this guy. Let’s go.”

*

Having suffered the agony brought on by his master through the remainder of the evening and the whole of the following day, Brendon couldn’t help feeling that he had to be near the end of his punishment. It had, he thought, been an extreme punishment for a relatively minor offense, but Beckett was proving increasingly unpredictable. When the door opened once more, he immediately imagined it to be Beckett.

“I’m sorry, Master, I really am,” he managed between bursts of excruciating and debilitating pain. “I’ll never question you again.”

Instead of William Beckett’s firm but soft voice, he heard only cackling laughter.

“So, even the perfect and wonderful Brendon gets punished! I had no idea! Do you have any idea how happy that’s made me?”  
“Carden!” Brendon growled, humiliated to be found in such a state by his subordinate. “Get out or I’ll kill you!”  
“Oh, no, don’t try to take this perfect moment away from me,” Mike grinned. “I’ve waited a long time to see this. In fact, I may take advantage of the situation. I’ve always wondered…”

Stepping forward, Mike extended his fangs and dropped eagerly to his knees.

“Get away from me!” Brendon screamed, exhausted and too much in pain to defend himself.

Laughing almost manically, Mike leaned closer, his fangs piercing the soft skin at the base of Brendon’s neck. Almost immediately, Mike was being propelled at speed towards the far wall, crashing against it violently before being repeatedly pulled forward and pushed back once more. Within moments he hung, bloodied and unconscious, upright only by Beckett’s powers as he stared at him, livid at the vampire’s attack on his favourite.

“What to do?” he spoke calmly as he stared at the errant vampire before allowing him to drop to the floor. “Your call, Brendon, what do you wish?”

Somewhat unsteadily, Brendon pushed himself to his feet before straightening the creases in his clothes. Glaring harshly at Mike, a cold sneer formed on his boyishly handsome face.

“Kill him!”  
An equally malicious smile appeared on Beckett’s face. “But of course, Brendon, but perhaps you would like to do it?”  
Nodding, Brendon snapped a chair leg with ease and stepped forward. Turning as he approached, he spoke to Beckett. “I want him awake, I want him to see!”  
“I am consistently impressed with your passion and capability for cruelty,” Beckett laughed as he, once again, used his powers to raise Mike from the floor and drag him from his unconscious state.

Opening his eyes slowly, Mike Carden was immediately aware that he was unable to move. Hanging limply, and able only to see and speak, he turned his eyes to Beckett.

“Master, I’m sorry,” he croaked. “I shouldn’t have.”  
“No,” Brendon stepped forward. “You shouldn’t. And I’m going to show you exactly how much you shouldn’t.”  
“What?” Mike asked, suddenly nervous and trying to pull away, to no avail.  
Raising the makeshift stake, Brendon offered a sly grin. “I’ve wanted to do this for a long time, Carden.”  
“No!” Mike screamed, terrified. “Master! Please!”

Pausing to allow the full horror of his situation to sink in and to perhaps suggest that it was all just to scare him, Brendon savoured the moment before bringing his arm down sharply, burying the stake deep into Mike’s heart.  
Allowing Mike to drop, now lifeless, to the floor, Beckett turned his attention to his cuffs, straightening them with the sleeves of his jacket.  
“You know,” Brendon mused, “in many ways, I really do wish vampires turned to dust when you stake them. It would be much more theatrical.”  
“And easier to clear away,” Beckett agreed.  
Brendon lowered his eyes as he turned back to face his master.  
“I am sorry, Master, I should know by now not to question you.”  
“And I should trust you more… and, you were right.” Beckett sighed. “Brendon, we will start a new coven, you and I, together.”  
“Master?”  
“And you will not call me Master any more,” he nodded solemnly. “From now on we are equals and you will be Master Brendon to our fledglings and recruits.”  
“William,” Brendon gasped, dropping to one knee and lowering his head. “Thank you!”  
“Rise, Brendon,” Beckett shook his head. “That behaviour is not befitting a coven leader. Now, come, I have some good news… something to show you.”


	14. I’ve had enough of your yap!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andy tries to talk his way out of his predicament

“Pete!” Patrick sighed in frustration. “Will you just stop for a minute! I can’t hear anything over your racket!”  
“There’s nothing _to_ hear!” Pete snapped back only to be proved wrong by sly laughter coming from the cage.  
“Been left all alone have you?” Spencer chuckled. “If only you knew what happened.”  
“What do you know?” Patrick cut in, willing Pete to stay quiet and leave the talking to him.  
“He doesn’t know anything,” Pete growled, to Patrick’s annoyance.  
“Really?” Spencer replied teasingly. “I heard everything, they arrived as dusk was approaching and I’m a very early riser. Don’t you want to know what happened to Andy.”

A sudden loud hollow thud, followed by the sound of shattering locks filling the air as the door of Pete’s cabinet flew open, slamming back on itself as he shoved it forcefully, almost ripping it from its hinges.

“Pete!” Patrick called, fearful that he would do something drastic. “Let me out!”  
“Things to do, Trick,” he replied in a surly tone as he rose and headed for the cage.

_Pete! Don’t do anything stupid! We have to find out what happened. I know you’ll do something…_

_Shut up, Patrick! Just for once, trust me!_

_For once? Let me out of here! Pete! Pete?_

Blocked from Pete’s thoughts and unable to communicate further, Patrick’s only option was to do as Pete had done and try to escape the cabinet. Blocking out the sound of Patrick trying desperately to break the locks, Pete headed for the cage. Stopping in the doorway, Pete scowled at the occupant, grinning back at him from inside.

“I heard everything,” Spencer announced gleefully. “I know what happened to Andy and I’m the only one that does.”  
“And you’re going to tell me,” Pete growled, staring intently at the caged vampire.  
“Oh, no,” Spencer laughed, shaking his head slowly. “You don’t get something for nothing.”

Pete narrowed his eyes and parted his lips, baring his fangs almost without thinking about it, as the pair stared at each other for a few moments.

“Well, come on, Wentz,” Spencer goaded. “What’s it to be? Do you want to know what happened to your naive little friend, or not?”  
“Pete!” Patrick yelled, still desperate for him to make no rash decisions.  
“What do you want?” Pete asked carefully.  
“Let me out of here,” Spencer replied.  
“You agreed to go in there, what’s the problem?” Pete raised an eyebrow.  
“I didn’t know you intended to leave me to rot in here!” he snapped in reply, before continuing with a sly grin. “Besides, the way you’re going, there’ll be none of you left to let me out before long.”

Pete took an unnecessary deep breath and nodded. Somehow, Spencer had witnessed whatever had befallen Andy, now it seemed that he had the upper hand.

“Are you Andy?” came a quiet, unassuming voice.  
“Who’s there?” Pete turned his head, surprise by the voice.  
“The door was open, I’m bringing…” as the priest entered the room, he stopped mid-sentence as he saw Spencer locked inside the cage.  
“What?” Spencer scowled at the priest. “Never seen a vampire in a cage before?”  
“I…”  
“Why are you looking for Andy? What do you know?” Pete growled, suspicious of his sudden arrival.  
“I… I’m just bringing the Holy Water he asked for,” the priest replied. “I’m Father Nichols. Is… is he safe in there. I mean… am I safe?”  
“You’re safe from me,” Spencer smirked in reply. “Not from him though.”  
“You’re not Andy?”  
“Him? He’s not Andy, he’s not even human,” Spencer laughed at the look of fear in the priest’s eyes.

Pete’s eyes widened as he saw the priest hurriedly removing the cap from the large bottle of water.

“No!” Pete cried, stepping back, amid peels of laughter from Spencer.  
“What’s going on in here?” Joe’s sleepy voice called. “No! Don’t do it!” he cried, rushing forward to take the hit of Holy Water instead of Pete.  
“You’re human?” Father Nichols gasped, allowing his eyes to flit back and forth between Joe and Pete.  
“Yeah,” Joe breathed a sigh of relief, glad that Pete was unhurt.  
“He’s a vampire? But you hunt them… don’t you?” Nichols asked with uncertainty in his tone, casting a confused glance at Spencer.  
“He does too,” Joe confirmed. “He’s one of the good guys.”

Pete found a brief smile crossing his lips as he headed out of the room to free Patrick from his cabinet.

“Aren’t you risking a lot to come here now?” Joe asked with a frown. “It’s after dusk; the curfew?”  
“Vampires won’t attack a priest,” he replied confidently.  
“Really?” Pete frowned as he walked back in followed by Patrick. “You seemed pretty convinced that I was going to attack you!”

Nichols lowered his head and sighed.

“I… I’m sorry about that. I’m late, I was supposed to be here thirty minutes ago, but there have been so many deaths lately. The vampires don’t fear any reprisals now that William Beckett is Governor. I’ve been a lot busier.”  
Joe nodded sadly. “I know.”  
Patting Joe’s arm, Nichols nodded his sympathies. “I’m sorry about the water. I do have more, it’s by the door, I didn’t…”  
“Thank you,” Joe forced a smile. “It’s okay.”  
“I better go,” Nichols nodded again. “As you say, it’s late.”  
“Did you see Andy?” Pete cut in before he left. “Brownish-red hair, tattoos, glasses.”  
“No, I’m sorry, I didn’t see anything, just the door left open.”  
“Thank you,” Patrick replied, stepping forward to see the priest to the door.  
“Open the cage, Wentz,” Spencer smirked. “Or you’ll never know what happened to him.”

*

Beckett led Brendon into the Mayor’s office, the younger vampire wondering what it could possibly be that Beckett wanted him to see, a faint smile of anticipation playing across his lips. As they entered the room, Brendon’s smile broadened immeasurably. Before them stood Master Saporta and Andrea - both of the hunters’ new tormentors come to give their report.

“Master Saporta, Miss Logan,” Brendon greeted them respectfully.  
“Brendon,” Saporta nodded in return.  
“Master Brendon,” Beckett corrected.

Saporta raised an eyebrow and smirked, partly in disbelief and partly in amusement, at the statement.

“Congratulations on your elevated status, Master Brendon,” Saporta replied. “I hope you live long enough to enjoy it.”

Brendon lost his smile and narrowed his eyes, deeply annoyed by the comment.

“Is that a threat?” he spat. “Because if…”  
“No, no,” Saporta interrupted smoothly with almost a chuckle. Glancing meaningfully at Beckett, he turned his eyes back to the younger vampire. “Just an observation, that’s all.”  
“You have a report, Gabriel?” Beckett asked, his voice clipped and angry.  
“Yes, William, I have a report, and I think you’re going to like it. The word on the vampire underground is that Andy has been taken by a group of human vigilantes in your name.”

Beckett’s eyes widened with delight, but immediately he tempered his response with disappointment.

“Only Andrew?” he asked. “Not Joseph?”  
“No, apparently they were too afraid to enter the warehouse. It was approaching dusk anyway, the curfew.”  
“Don’t worry about Joe, Master William,” Andrea commented. “I intend to bring him to his knees. By the time I’m finished with him, he’ll probably kill himself. I’ve already convinced him that my death was his fault.”  
“Oh, this is too good to be true!” Beckett sighed happily. “All this and Peter believing that he can beat his addiction by killing Patrick. If only I’d realised before just how easy it would be to destroy them! All this time, fighting fire with fire when should have been using water. Go back,” Beckett continued, clasping his hands together in sheer delight. “Gabriel, see if you can plot with Peter to kill Patrick, then when he does and it makes no difference, bring him to me. Nobody kills Peter but me! And you, my dear Andrea, continue exactly what you’re doing. Break Joseph. Shatter his fragile heart and if he doesn’t kill himself, you do it. And Brendon, find out why those humans haven’t brought Andrew to me yet. And when you find them, kill them for insubordination.”  
“What about Andy?”  
“Whatever you wish,” Beckett replied dismissively. “Eat him, turn him, torture him; I don’t mind.”  
“Yes, William!” Brendon grinned, already considering methods of torture for the captured hunter.

*

Securely bound and gagged, it didn’t seem to Andy that he was going anywhere in a hurry. He had been out cold for over two hours and when he had finally come to, he had woken to such tremendous pain that he feared he might actually be sick, which, given the gag pulled deep into his mouth, would probably cause him to choke. Lying still for at least another hour, he mentally willed away the discomfort and nausea as slowly the pain eased. He had no idea where he was, but it appeared to be the basement of somebody’s home. It certainly didn’t look like any room in the Mayor’s offices, having not long ago been there, Andy felt reasonably certain that he would recognise it. As he considered the possibilities, the door opened and he looked up, only now realising that his glasses had been taken.

“So, you’re awake then?” the fuzzy shape said as it neared the bound hunter. Kneeling the now almost in focus figure removed the gag.  
“Where are my glasses?” Andy demanded after a moment’s pause to readjust to having the cloth pulled from his mouth. “Why don’t you want me to see you?”  
“Oh, yeah, I wear glasses myself, I took them off you. I didn’t want them to get damaged.”  
“You’re worried about damage?” Andy replied, confused, as the man rose and moved to what he could hear was a drawer in a cabinet. “Who are you?”  
“Just a guy,” the man replied as he bent down to return Andy’s glasses to their rightful position.  
“You’re not working for Beckett?” Andy asked as he looked up at the man in his late fifties.  
“No… Well, I guess, technically.”  
“You’re claiming the bounty?” Andy sighed with realisation.  
“Well, that’s a lot of money son and it’s because of you there’s a curfew now. We always got by with the vampires before, but…”  
“Got by!” Andy cried in surprise. “They were killing people!”  
“They never got anyone I knew,” the man replied by way of a defence.  
“No? Well you’re lucky!”  
“That’s as maybe, but they can’t be beaten, son. We gotta do what we can to survive.”  
“So you’re willing to hand me over to them, even knowing they’ll kill me?”  
“No,” the man shook his head. “Governor Beckett said…”  
“William Beckett is a vampire! A real bastard too! He’s the worst of them all. You trust him? You think he’ll pay you? He’ll kill you too!”  
“Jack, there’s someone…” a voice called as the door opened again. “Hell! I knew you’d do this! You haven’t untied him too have you?”  
“Cory,” Jack replied standing. “The boy here’s saying…”  
“Anything to get you to let him go?”  
“Hey!” Andy called. “I’m not your enemy! Beckett’s the one. He’ll kill you, he’ll kill me… Anyone who gets in his way. Do you really think all this will stop if he kills us? We’re the last hunter group in this town! This town is safe because of us, not in spite of us!” Andy paused, waiting for a response but getting none. “If you let him kill me, things will only get worse.”  
“Someone from the Mayor’s office is coming over,” Cory ignored Andy’s impassioned plea and spoke to Jack once more. “Some dude called Brendon Urie.”  
“Beckett’s right hand,” Andy tried to enlighten them. “Cruel, vicious, ambitious. If anyone’s going to kill you, just for fun, it’ll be him!”  
“I’ve had enough of your yap!” Cory knelt at Andy’s side and, despite his struggles, forced the gag back into his mouth, tying it tightly at the nape of his neck. “Come on, let’s go.”

Jack paused, uncertain if the decision Cory had made was the right one.

“I said, come on!” he yelled again.

Andy did his best to scream his anger and frustration from behind the gag but it was useless. Brendon was on his way and he was in no position to stop what he knew would happen.

*

Stepping from the cage, Spencer smirked at Pete, stretching his arms wide to signify his freedom.

“There, that wasn’t difficult, now, was it?”

Turning a sly glance towards Joe, Spencer wetted his lips, only to be shoved back against the bars by the still stronger Pete.

“Find your breakfast somewhere else!” he growled baring his fangs. “You even think about eating Joe, I’ll eat you myself!”  
“Calm down, Wentz, I know you’re only cranky because you want a nice juicy human yourself.”

Using his other arm to push Spencer’s head back agains the bars exposing his neck, Pete moved closer, baring his fangs at the arrogant vampire.

“Where’s Andy?” he demanded angrily.  
“Human vigilantes took him.”  
“No way,” Pete scoffed at the idea. “Where is he?”  
“I told you!” Spencer insisted. “He went out, thought the man at the door was the priest, but when he got there they jumped him.”  
“Where did they take him?”  
“How the hell should I know?” Spencer pushed back viciously, catching Pete off guard and forcing him backwards. “They took him, that’s all I know.”  
“You don’t know who, you don’t know where. That’s not much use is it?” Pete snarled.  
“It’s more than you had before,” Spencer snapped. “And it’s all you’re getting.”

Trying to free himself from Pete’s grip, Spencer gritted his teeth as Pete held firm, grinning maniacally at him.

“You think I should let you go, Spence?” He taunted. “You’ve given us nothing to warrant your freedom.”  
“They took him for the bounty, for Beckett,” he growled in return.  
“Not enough,” Pete snapped. “We have to find him before Beckett gets hold of him.”  
“I told you, I don’t know where he is! I told you what I know, you said you’d let me go!” he yelled, feeling somewhat naive even as he spoke the words.  
“Yeah, well, you said you’d give us some information and you haven’t exactly held up your end of the bargain, have you?”  
“Information?” Spencer’s smile lengthened as a new thought occurred to him. “You want some information? Well, if anything will do, why not ask Joe how he’s been sleeping?”

Pete frowned; Joe had been exhausted recently, complaining of a lack of sleep. Added to that he now seemed constantly nervous, worried and increasingly distracted and depressed.

“Yeah,” Spencer nodded at Pete’s reaction. “You know what I mean, don’t you?”  
“Joe?” Patrick turned a questioning eye towards his friend, knowing instantly from the expression on his face that something was very wrong, more than simple grief.  
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Joe mumbled, lowering his eyes and retreating into himself.  
“It’s called grief, Spencer,” Pete said sharply. “Not that I expect you to remember what that is, if you even felt it when human.”  
“Is that what you think it is?” Spencer laughed. “Oh, he’s got you two well under control and you’re not even aware!”  
“Control?” Pete frowned. “Joe?”

An unexpected laugh burst from Spencer’s lips as Pete spoke. Shaking his head, the vampire continued to chuckle to himself.

“Beckett,” he explained simply. “He’s playing both of you and he’s doing it so well you can’t even see it. Ask him what’s keeping him awake. Well, go on, ask him!” he repeated after a short pause.

Turning to face Joe, Patrick frowned as Joe took a step back and refused to look him in the eye.

“Joe? What’s going on?” he asked with uncertainty. “I assumed it was just grief. Is there more?”  
“I told you,” Joe’s voice was strained with the effort of holding in his pain. “I don’t want…”  
“What’s happening?” Pete demanded, leaving Joe sighing in relief as he realised the aggressive question was aimed at Spencer and not him.  
“Joe,” Patrick pleaded. “Tell us, please?”  
“No,” Pete smirked, forcing Spencer’s head back once more. “Let me beat it out of him.”  
“What can be affecting Joe that Beckett has control over?” Patrick voiced his confusion.

At Spencer’s smirk in response to Patrick’s question, somehow, Pete knew exactly what the problem was.

“Andrea!”

At the mention of her name, it seemed almost as if Joe retreated into himself still further and moving closer, Patrick placed his hand on Joe’s shoulder, hopeful that he would respond to the offer of comfort. Looking up, Joe stared with tired, bloodshot eyes and Patrick almost gasped with surprise at the obvious depth of his pain.

“So it is grief,” Patrick asked turning his head to look at Spencer.  
“You two are unbelievable!” Spencer cried. “No wonder Beckett keeps getting one over on you.”  
“What are you talking about?” Pete pressed his arm into Spencer’s neck in anger.  
Pushing Pete’s arm back a little, Spencer replied: “She’s a vampire.”  
“No way!” Pete laughed scornfully. “Don’t you think we’d sense her? You got to…”  
“She’s blocking you! He’s taught her how, but he’s been too specific, she’s just blocking you and the geek here.”  
“Hey!” Patrick cried angrily.  
“I can sense her, I know she’s here and a vampire. Beckett’s trying to break you, one by one and he’s doing a damn good job of it, isn’t he?”  
“A vampire?” Joe finally spoke, his voice sounded almost fragile.

Relaxing his grip a little, Pete turned his head to look at Patrick and Joe. The expression on his friend’s face tore into him and he watched briefly as Patrick pulled him into a much needed hug.

“So, I take it you mean she’s evil?” Pete’s voice softened at the question.  
“Are there any other types of vampire?” Spencer taunted.  
Pete gritted his teeth as he tried hard to ignore the blatant attempt to anger him. “How? She loved Joe, how can she be doing this to him?”  
“Okay, so tell me,” Spencer began. “Are you always this stupid?”  
“Just answer the question, Spencer, or I swear, I’ll eat you!” Pete yelled in return.  
“All vampires are evil… Except you two freaks!”

Pete allowed his fangs to extend once more and pushing Spencer’s head to his right despite his struggles, Pete began to lower his head, grazing Spencer’s neck with his teeth.

“Wait!” he screamed. “They turned her, for Beckett, they made sure. Trust me, she’s evil. She’s not just doing this, she’s enjoying it.”

The slightest of sobbing sounds escaped Joe’s lips as Patrick tried hard to console him despite feeling shocked himself.

“What else do you know?” Pete pressed, subdued by Joe’s distress.  
“She’s trying to get him to kill himself, I’m sure. She’s doing everything she can to make him feel guilty and depressed but in such a way that he thinks he’s imagining it, or she’s a ghost or something.”  
“That’s it?” Pete asked lowering his arm.  
“What?” Spencer frowned. “You’re gonna say that’s not enough for you now?”

Pete appeared to be giving the question some thought before letting go and stepping back.

“Get out!” he frowned with distaste. “And stay away.”  
“You’ve invited me in now, Wentz,” Spencer cocked his head to the right. “I can come and go as I please now.”  
“No, Spence, I didn’t just say stay away from here, I said stay away. If I even see you again, I’m going to kill you. Understand?”  
“You won’t get the chance,” Spencer returned with an angry frown. “I’ll get my strength back soon, Wentz and I’ll do whatever the hell I like. And if… No, when I choose to kill you, there’ll be nothing you, or anyone else, can do about it. Understand?”  
“I’m quaking in my shoes,” Pete replied dryly. “Get out!”

Not trusting him to simply leave, Pete followed Spencer to the door, closing and locking it after him. Returning to the room he had just left, Pete frowned to find it empty but his acute hearing picked up the heart-rendering sobs coming from what he realised was Joe’s room. Silently, he vowed to make Beckett pay for what he had done. Joe had already suffered more than enough and to now try to drive him to suicide with guilt and pain was beyond evil. Pushing open the door to Joe’s room, Pete stared with a hardened expression at Joe and Patrick, both sitting on the side of the bed.

“Beckett’s on borrowed time,” he announced coldly.

*

At the sound of crashing furniture a floor above him, Andy looked up urgently, renewing his struggles as he realised that Brendon had arrived. Far from receiving payment for his capture, it was clear from the sounds of screaming that the men who had taken him were being attacked and brutally killed. The clatter of boots on the stairs as someone half ran, half stumbled down the steps drew Andy’s attention. Expecting Jack, Andy was surprised to see Cory, the one who had in all probability orchestrated his abduction and refused to accept that Andy knew what would happen. Bursting into the room, gasping for breath and clearly terrified, he dropped at Andy’s side, pulling the gag from his mouth before setting his shaking hands on the ropes around Andy’s wrists.

“You gotta help us!” he cried. “He’s a psycho! He’s killing everyone.”  
“I told you! You wouldn’t listen to me!”

Still fumbling with the knots, Cory couldn’t seem to coordinate his fingers.

“What’s the matter with me? I can’t do this!” he stammered, his voice shaking as much as his hands.  
“You have to calm down,” Andy encouraged. “Take a deep breath.”

Above them the screaming stopped abruptly and the silence was broken only by the sound of footsteps making their way slowly and menacingly down the stairs.

“Oh, God!” Cory almost fell back, away from Andy, the hunter forgotten in his terror.  
“Cory!” Andy shouted, trying desperately to get the man’s attention. “I can’t help you like this!”  
“Andy,” Brendon smiled from the doorway.

Andy looked up, his mouth drying with nervous anticipation of what he was sure would be his impending death. The vampire, immaculately dressed in a light grey suit and silver cravat, smirked down at him.

“I had no idea they’d gift wrap you for me,” he smirked. “How very sweet.”  
“Why did you kill them?” Andy asked bitterly. “They did what you wanted, didn’t they?”  
“Yes, but, as you know, killing is in our very nature and you know how much I enjoy a good kill.” Brendon turned his eyes towards the visibly trembling Cory, too scared to move or even speak. “You must be Cory,” Brendon smiled broadly displaying his fangs.  
“Let him go, Brendon,” Andy pleaded. “You’re here for me and you’ve got me.”  
“I have, haven’t I?” Brendon smirked. “But,” he added, licking his lips and taking slow purposeful steps towards Cory, “you know what it’s like when something smells so tasty that you’ve just got to try it?”

Pushing himself backwards across the floor, Cory whimpered with fear, without even the energy to even try to run.

“Brendon! Please!” Andy begged only to be laughed at.  
“They take you to hand over to me and you’re pleading for his life? How very noble.” Finally standing over the terrified man, Brendon smiled again, an unpleasant and truly terrifying smile. “Very noble, and very pointless.”

Dropping to his knees, Brendon had the man pinned beneath him, screaming as the blood spilled from the holes in his neck, each drop expertly lapped up by Brendon. Andy closed his eyes, wishing he could block out the sounds of the man’s terror and finally his lingering death as Brendon left him drained.

“Well, now,” Brendon rose and stood over Andy, straightening his cuffs and cravat. “What to do with you?”


	15. That’s all you have to do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Master Saporta tries to convince Pete with his theory on how to break his human blood addiction - will Pete believe him?

“You’re going to kill me, Brendon, so just do it,” Andy said defiantly looking up at the smirking vampire.

Brendon smiled down at the hunter still lying on the floor, bound hand and foot. Crouching at his side, he removed the gag left hanging around Andy’s neck and forced his chin to one side to get a better view of the jugular vein. Licking his lips as he smelled the adrenaline fuelled blood racing through the veins, Brendon took a moment to enjoy the fear he could almost taste.

“Did you know that venous blood tastes better than arterial blood?” he asked almost conversationally, knowing that the delay would only exacerbate Andy’s anxiety. “I think it must be the lack of oxygen. Some vampires like it. Not me,” he licked his lips again and moved in closer.

Grabbing a handful of Andy’s hair and holding him firmly, Brendon settled his fangs on Andy’s neck, feeling him tense in his grip. Pausing, almost teasing, occasionally pressing his fangs harder on Andy’s neck but without breaking the skin.

“Are you scared, Andy?” Brendon murmured softly into his neck.  
“Just do it!” Andy whispered hoarsely in return, tensing still further.

Laughing softly, finding amusement in Andy’s fear, Brendon retracted his fangs and pulled back. Releasing his grip on Andy’s hair, he sat back on his heels and stared down.

“No, not yet, where’s the fun in that? I think I’ll keep you for a while. I know I can’t make you a slave, you’re far too resistant for that. But if I turn you, you think you’ll end up like the other two but you won’t. You know that? You won’t. All your training, all your resistance, none of that will help you. I know Patrick thinks that’s how you keep your humanity. I sensed it when we had him after he was turned. I mean,” Brendon paused as he stood, walking the few paces to a nearby table and leaning back on it, “what a ridiculous idea! The only thing it comes down to is human blood. Patrick hasn’t had any and Pete never took his first drink until recently.” Brendon laughed. “Oh, yeah, we know. He’s suffering isn’t he? And slowly, but surely, he’s turning evil. It’s inevitable, there’s not a thing he can do to stop it and he knows. He’s already killed and he’ll kill again and every time he does it, it’ll get easier and more natural until… one day, he’ll do it for fun and he won’t stop.”  
Andy shook his head. “No, you don’t know everything, Brendon. You don’t know nearly everything you think you do!”  
“You’re surely not referring to the donor blood that Patrick’s feeding him?” Watching Andy pale at the words, Brendon folded his arms across his chest, laughing as he did. “Oh! You are! My dear Andy, that won’t help him, if anything it’ll make it worse. Donated blood is sour, tasteless. No adrenaline, you see. Adrenaline makes it sweet.” Brendon licked his lips without even realising it. “The more afraid, the more… Oh! The sweeter! Like nectar! Like deep red nectar! That’s why I can’t bite you now, Andy,” Brendon crouched low again and smiled at the bound hunter. “You’re just not scared enough!”  
“So,” Andy scowled, “you’re keeping me alive? That won’t make your master happy, now, will it?”  
“I don’t have a master any more,” Brendon offered a superior smirk, still clearly delighted with his elevated status.  
“So, you finally managed to kill him before he killed you?” Andy asked, not really believing the words, but knowing that there was a good chance it would trigger Brendon’s paranoia.  
Frowning angrily before resuming his smirk, Brendon continued. “William is no longer my master. He’s made me his equal.”

Andy laughed loudly and distractedly with apparent genuine amusement. That single reaction probably fuelling Brendon’s fears more than anything he could have said.

“What?” Brendon snapped angrily, partly annoyed with himself that he had allowed the hunter to get to him.  
“Listen to the way you phrase it. He’s still your master, perhaps even more so now than ever.”  
“What do you mean, the way I phrased it?” Brendon appeared confused, thrown by Andy’s response.  
“He’s made you his equal?” Andy shook his head in an almost pitying fashion. “If you were truly his equal you would just be his equal. He couldn’t make you and you wouldn’t say it like that. You’re not his equal even in your own mind!”  
“We’re equal! I don’t have to convince you!” Brendon yelled.  
“You can’t even convince yourself! Try it!” Andy laughed, even though angering the volatile vampire would only work against him. “Tell me you’re William Beckett’s equal.”

Brendon stared back, somehow unable to bring himself to utter the words.

“You can’t can you?” Andy sneered. “He’s still got you exactly where he wants you!”  
“Shut up!” Brendon pulled Andy to his knees. “I don’t have to prove anything to you! You’re nothing! You’re less than nothing! And I’ll take great pleasure in proving that to you!”

Andy didn’t even feel the pain of the blow, neither did he see it coming, such was Brendon’s anger. Slumping in the vampire’s grip, Andy was lucky to still be alive and, had he been conscious still, he would know that it was possibly only his goading of Brendon and persistent provoking that had prevented his death. It seemed very likely, however, that he had only postponed the inevitable.

*

William Beckett looked around the room. The Mayoral Residence was now his home, but it was little more than adequate. It wasn’t his beloved mansion and his beautiful car was destroyed. Worst of all, his Coven was gone. Utterly gone. The only survivors had been himself, Brendon and Mike Carden but he had killed Mike and released Brendon from subservience. Now he was a Master without a Coven, as was Brendon. It was pathetic and he hated it. Without even seeing any of them, he knew the remaining Coven Leaders were laughing at him. He needed a Coven desperately, but no matter what he did to build one now, with newly created vampires, he would be weak and powerless. The hunters had brought him to this and what little revenge he could extract, he fully intended to.

There was only one possible way out of all of this and once again, that plan lay with Peter. The original plan the one that would deliver all other Covens to him, the one that would make him powerful again. Feared again. That plan, the success of it lay on Master Gabriel Saporta’s shoulders. He hated handing over control to others, especially another Coven Master, and ironically one of those he intended to kill, but it was the only way. He had already managed to convince Peter that he had to break his original source link. The only way to do that was to kill Patrick. That in itself would give I’m reason to celebrate but it would do something else too. The guilt and pain would be too much for him to handle, he would sink into a depression. With no one to keep him in check, his bloodlust would build and he would certainly kill again. Beckett felt certain that soon, very soon, Peter would return. Much as he had after he had originally turned Patrick, the human blood would cloud his humanity and eventually exclude it utterly. He would return and remain. And then… The plan. Saporta would die with the other Coven Leaders and all the city’s vampires would be split between him and Brendon. They would rule absolute and no one would argue with them. It was still possible but it was essential that he played his hand carefully and part of that care meant watching over the still very volatile Brendon.

*

Patrick stared up at Pete. It was a reasonable enough statement to make that Beckett was living on borrowed time. They all hated him with a passion but it was one thing to say it, it was quite another to make good on the threat. Leaving Joe still seated on the bed, lost in his misery, Patrick wandered closer to Pete and faced him with a strongly determined expression.

“We have to deal with Andrea,” Patrick whispered, out of Joe’s earshot.  
“Yeah,” Pete agreed, “but we can’t sense her, she’s blocking us, we have to find a way to see and hear her.”  
“There is a way, I think, but only one of us can do it,” Patrick sighed.  
“The other has to find Andy?” Pete nodded.  
“Yeah.”  
“I’ll find Andy,” Pete nodded. “If there’s fighting to be done, I’m stronger.”  
Patrick nodded. “I can use a net gun on Andrea, she’ll be concentrating on Joe so much, she won’t even be aware of me.”  
“How are you going to disrupt the blocking?” Pete asked wary of Patrick’s unspoken method.  
“I’m going to drink Holy Water.”  
“You’re going to what?” Pete cried, forgetting himself. “How is that going to do anything but kill you?”  
“It’ll burn, but it won’t kill me,” Patrick corrected.  
“And how will that help?” Pete insisted.  
“Joe has a memory now of the priest throwing Holy Water at you. She’ll feel the burning in one of us, I’m guessing she won’t realise which one, and she’ll pull back and I’ll see her. She won’t be at all suspicious because she’ll be vaguely aware of his memory.”  
“And what if she looks at the memory closer? What if she realises that I didn’t get hit by the water? Or she tries to sense who’s there and knows you’re not me? What if it just doesn’t work? What if it burns you too much? What if you don’t recover?”  
“I will recover,” Patrick insisted.  
“And the answers to my other questions?”  
“I’ll be fine! You just find Andy.”  
“You had better be fine!” Pete snapped worriedly. “What about when you find her.”  
Patrick frowned bitterly. “I’ll have to kill her.”  
“In front of Joe?” Pete gasped his voice dropped to almost nothing again.  
“You know, I’ll try to sidestep that pitfall,” Patrick frowned as he offered the sarcastic reply, surprised that Pete felt the need to ask the question.  
“Yeah, sorry,” Pete nodded, sighing in acceptance of the somewhat harsh response. “Good luck, Trick.”  
“You too,” Patrick replied grimly.

*

Patrick sat in his office, both elbows on the table with his fingers interlaced with his chin resting on top. It was his thinking pose. Over the years, he had spent many long hours in this position, mostly thinking about Pete’s various dilemmas. There seemed to be a never ending stream of new complications to address with Pete. Things that would be easier to address or not even be problems at all if he would only drop his attitude. But there were so many levels and contradictions with Pete. He wasn’t always complex but he was never simple. Frequently, unlike himself, Patrick mused, what you saw was not even close to what you got. Pete was the master of putting up a front and almost disguising his feelings. Patrick smiled at the thought of _almost_. Pete was good, but he wasn’t _that_ good! But now it was different. This wasn’t about Pete and his myriad of issues, but it was just as difficult to deal with, possibly even more so. Now he was trying to outsmart one of Beckett’s vampires. That in itself was nothing new, but never before had this particular situation arisen - this time it was who that was special. This time it was Andrea. Joe hadn’t known her long, but he adored her. She had saved his life and he had saved hers. They had both been through so much together only to have that closeness destroyed by the callousness of two evil vampires - William Beckett and Brendon Urie. Not only had they killed her, they had turned her. If that wasn’t bad enough, they had given her a mission to utterly destroy Joe. It was working until Spencer had used the information to gain his freedom, but the news of it had crushed him as effectively as the attempt itself. Patrick had dreaded the idea of trying to resolve the matter and assumed he would have a real job on his hands just getting him to be coherent, but surprisingly Joe had managed to focus, somehow. Yes, he was probably going through the motions but at least he had something to hold on to.

All these thoughts and more had been swirling around inside his mind for some time before Patrick realised he was merely postponing the inevitable. Unable to sense or even see Andrea, Patrick knew he had no chance of dealing with her without disrupting her very effective blocking tactics. _Dealing with her_. He still had no idea what that even meant. The only thing he did know was his plan to drink Holy Water in an attempt to break the block.

He frowned. Drinking Holy Water was probably the stupidest idea he had ever had and it was obvious to him why he was procrastinating.

What he was contemplating was dangerous, untried, unpredictable and…

“It’s all theory, isn’t it?” came a voice at his side, rousing him from deep within his thoughts.

Looking up with a distant look in his eyes and still so clearly in a daze that it almost suggested that he had been sleeping, Patrick finally acknowledged Joe standing next to him.

“It is, isn’t it?” he repeated. “It’s all just theory. You don’t know what this is going to do to you, do you?”  
“Well,” Patrick began leaning back in his chair, “it’s not as if…”  
“You’re not doing it,” Joe replied sternly, trying hard to turn his tired and pale face into a mask of determination.  
“Joe, we discussed this…” Patrick began, with Joe picturing his _it’s all under control_ speech approaching at breakneck speed.  
“No, Patrick,” Joe leaned on the desk, looming over his friend. “ _We_ didn’t talk about it. You told Pete you were doing it, then he tried to talk you out of it but you wouldn’t listen!”  
“Joe… it’s…”  
“No!” Joe snapped, suddenly finding his voice and seeming more like his old self than he had for quite some time. “You’re not going to…”

Patrick frowned suddenly as Joe’s head turned, eyes widening at something that Patrick had apparently missed.

“What is it?” Patrick asked urgently.

As Joe turned back, his face steely with grim determination, Patrick knew.

“Andrea?” he asked quietly receiving a brief nod in return.  
“Joe, how can I help you if I can’t even see her?”  
“You don’t need to help me,” Joe whispered darkly as he pulled a stake from behind his back, hidden in the belt-style holster. “I can do it myself.”  
“Joe,” Patrick’s brow creased to see the mixture of hurt and determination in his friend’s eyes. “You can’t.”  
“I’m the only one of us that can,” he replied turning and heading for the door.

*

The deserted streets were still an unnerving sight and Pete looked around, the anger in him growing. Absolute silence but for the occasional wind whipping sharply around the corner of one unusually narrow road.

“If you’re looking for something to eat, you won’t find it here,” came a voice from behind him.

Pete wasn’t surprised by the voice. He had been aware of being followed almost since he left the warehouse. And now he knew who it was, he knew instantly that the man wanted him to know he was being followed. Older and more powerful than Pete, this vampire could easily have blocked him and was more than capable of attacking him and even overpowering him. The real question was - what did he want?

“I’ve eaten,” Pete replied without even turning.  
“That sour, flavourless packet blood?” the man tutted as he stepped slowly from the shadows. “You know that’s not food. You know what it really tastes like. You can’t wipe that from your memory, can you?”  
“What do you want, Saporta?” Pete growled, finally turning to look at the elder vampire.  
“I told you, I want to help you.”  
“Help me?” Pete replied scornfully. “And why suddenly do you want to help me?”

Leaning up against a wall, the vampire smirked and rested one foot behind the other before folding his arms across his chest.

“Because it’s in my interests to.”  
“What do you mean?” Pete frowned, narrowing his eyes slightly, whilst still remaining wary of his surroundings.  
“Oh, don’t pretend, Pete,” Saporta laughed. “You know what’s happening to you. You know it’s not just a blood addiction, you know it goes deeper than that.”  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Pete snapped, glaring angrily at the smug looking vampire.  
“Fine! “ he threw his hands in the air. “Stick your head in the sand, let Beckett win!”  
“Win what?” Pete asked growing increasingly irritable.  
“I want Beckett gone as much as you, maybe more…”  
“I doubt it!” Pete scoffed.  
“Then let’s agree that I want Beckett dead almost as much as you,” Saporta sighed as he stepped closer.  
“What do you want?”  
“I told…”  
“Yeah, you want to help me. I got that, but what’s in it for you and how can you help me?”

Pete’s voice tapered at the end of his sentence and Saporta held back a smile. Did Pete almost choke on those words? Is he scared? This was even better than he imagined. Perhaps this wouldn’t be so difficult after all?

“I need you fit enough to kill Beckett, there aren’t many vampires strong enough. Not to do it alone, especially as his lapdog Brendon barely leaves his side. The two of them together are stronger than I am, but with you on my side…”  
“I’m not on anyone’s side but my own,” Pete grumbled about to turn and walk away.  
“Then do this for yourself,” Saporta replied teasingly, gaining Pete’s attention once more.  
“What do you mean?”  
“You want to survive, don’t you?” Saporta moved closer still. “But more than that, you don’t want to turn evil. Do you?”

Pete merely stared in response. If he didn’t say anything, perhaps he could fool himself that Saporta’s words weren’t getting to him. He continued:

“You know what’s happening. You know which each drop of human blood you’re losing your ability to control yourself. It’s hard isn’t it? You can’t keep that concoction down that used to keep the blood lust in you at bay. You want blood more than anything now don’t you? I can sense it, you’re practically salivating at the thought of it, aren’t you? Those packets of blood… Poor Patrick, he really believes that they help, doesn’t he? He believes that if you have a few of those a day that you won’t want to kill. What he doesn’t know is that every time he feeds you one of those things it only makes you want to kill more. That every drop feeds your desire to drink more. The lack of adrenaline makes it sour. Your body is crying out for the sweetness and rich heady rush you got when you drank his blood. You want it, don’t you? You can’t deny it, Pete, I can sense it in you. And I know that the more you drink the less control you have, the more likely you are to kill and all because he’s still alive.”  
“What?” Pete whispered, scared by the accuracy of Saporta’s statements and confused by his final one.  
“This is only happening because your original blood source is alive and near you. The urge to kill is still in you because the scent of his blood is so powerful in your memory. Kill him and the response goes away. You’re in control again.”  
“How?” Pete asked, his brow furrowed. “If any blood I drink makes me more evil how will killing Patrick help?”  
“I told you!” Saporta snapped irritably. “The scent of his blood is reminding you of the excitement of the kill, the taste of human blood coursing with adrenaline. Without that reminder, you can take control once more. And when you’re in control, you can join with me to kill Beckett.”  
“I can do that now,” Pete insisted.  
“Not with me,” Saporta scowled. “I don’t want you distracted in any way. There is only one shot at this. We won’t live long enough to get two.”  
“I’ll get control of my life back? No more craving? No more killing?”  
“You’ll probably be able to go back to that foul concoction afterwards.”  
“How can you be so sure?” Pete asked with uncertainty.  
“For the same reason that having to eat a salad doesn’t seem so bad when there isn’t a big juicy steak on the plate next to it. When temptation, such extreme temptation as your first kill, is removed, you can live your life the way you want.”  
“I… All I have to do is kill Patrick and all this will go away?”  
Saporta smiled broadly. “That’s all you have to do.”


	16. Take me to Beckett!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pete makes a decision

He was glad it was dark. He knew that with the blinding headache he was currently suffering, any amount of daylight would have been simply unbearable. But as he slowly opened his eyes, the heavy, sticky lids quite literally being forced open, Andy realised at the light chuckle filling his ears that he could find more than light to be unbearable.

“Do you have any idea how long you’ve been unconscious?” an all too familiar voice asked in a light and airy manner.

Andy groaned, partly with pain, partly through a vague awareness of his predicament but mostly with annoyance at the condescension in Brendon’s voice. The smug arrogance had reached a new peak and Andy simply wanted to respond, to do something, anything that would bring his runaway conceit to a grinding halt. But without even being fully aware, Andy knew that there was no way Brendon would have left him with any kind of escape or retaliation route. Brendon was many things - he was arrogant, ambitious, violent and paranoid, but he wasn’t stupid. Andy was a trained hunter, capable of surprising agility and strength and while Brendon didn’t fear him, neither did he underestimate him.

Trying to establish his situation, Andy tried hard to clear his mind of the all-enveloping fog that kept his thoughts and senses dulled but the dark throbbing headache was fighting him all the way and the most he could discern was that he was lying face down on the floor.

“Oh, come on Andy!” Brendon cried impatiently. “You humans really are pathetic!”  
“And yet we managed to destroy your Coven,” Andy sniped, aware that the comment would almost certainly only lead to more pain.

Bracing himself for a brutal kick, or worse, Andy tensed his muscles, relaxing only after about thirty seconds when nothing happened. With hindsight, he should have guessed that Brendon would wait, but when the blow finally came, he was ill prepared. Stamping a foot down on Andy’s lower back, just above his right kidney, Brendon snarled a response.

“And now it’s my turn to destroy your little group!”

Watching with pleasure as Andy choked and coughed in his agony, only now realising that his arms were allowed only limited movement. Pushing himself up slowly onto his elbows, Andy could now see the chains holding him to the floor. Fastened around both wrists with a length of roughly three feet on each side, the chains were fastened to a thick metal bracket secured in concrete in the floor. Finally sitting up an flopping back against the wall, Andy stared up at the angry vampire. He had no idea how he appeared to Brendon, but as much as he wanted to hide it, he suspected that he looked exactly how he felt - very scared.

“And so you should be scared, Andy,” Brendon smiled as he spoke. “I have you as… A toy. Something to torture, to enjoy. I can keep you alive for a very long time if I put my mind to it. A very long time. And when I get bored, I’ll kill you. I don’t know which you’d prefer. Of course, all the time you’re alive and suffering, you’ll be clinging to the hope that you can escape me. Well,” Brendon crouched down to be eye to eye with the captured hunter, “if I were you, I’d forget that little notion right now. You’re going nowhere and the only thing you can look forward to is pain, more pain and eventual death and that makes me so very happy I could almost kill you right now.”  
“If you think I’m going to give in to your little games, Brendon, you’re mistaken,” Andy snapped bitterly and, he hoped, convincingly.

Brendon laughed, shaking his head lightly; it was infuriating to watch the smooth confidence in his eyes, the arrogance in his smile. Brendon had Andy exactly where he wanted him with no escape in sight and they both knew it.

“My dear Andy,” Brendon reached forward and pushed his fingers gently through Andy’s hair before grabbing a handful at the roots and pulling painfully forward, causing Andy to grimace and his eyes to briefly close. “My games, as you put it, have barely started and believe me, you will give in to them because you have no choice. You are fastened to long enough chains to allow you movement, to let you writhe and struggle in agony, to try to pull away from me,” he smiled again as he pulled tighter on Andy’s hair. “But the truth of the matter is that you can’t get away from me. There is no escape for you, unless you count death. There’s no escape for any of you. We’re in your heads bringing you down slowly but surely. We realised we don’t need a battle to break you. Given the right conditions, you’ll cheerfully break yourselves.”  
“What do you mean?” Andy asked hesitantly and stiffly through the pain.  
“What do I mean?” Brendon wore an expression of mock pity. “I mean poor Joe tormented by the lovely and newly turned Andrea,” he grinned to see the shock on Andy’s face. “Oh, yes, he’s unaware and believes she’s haunting his every waking moment. He already believes it’s his fault she’s dead and that she blames and despises him for it. It won’t be long now before he loses the will to live. Poor kind, good-hearted Joe. The one who thinks with his heart instead of his head. She’s destroying him slowly but surely and soon enough he’ll take his own life and if he doesn’t, she’ll do it for him.”  
“You…!” Andy began only to be quickly interrupted.  
“Oh, but don’t you want to know about Pete and Patrick before you do something stupid to make me torture you?”  
“What about them?” Andy asked, subdued by concern for his friends.  
“Thanks to a certain Coven Leader with a tendency for greed, we’ve struck an uneasy truce. He’s gone to your base with tales of how he plans to overthrow us, but he needs Pete to help him. One catch, he needs him undistracted by bloodlust. Amazingly he’s managed to convince him that he has a way for him to beat his addiction and he appears to have fallen for it. Every last word.”  
“Fallen for what?” Andy choked out the words, afraid to hear the reply.  
“He’s convinced him that the only way to escape his bloodlust is to sever the link with his original blood source.”

Andy stared up. He knew. Deep inside, he knew exactly what Brendon meant. Perhaps he thought he was wrong, perhaps he just hoped he was, but the broad smile forming on Brendon’s face told him otherwise.

“He’s going to kill Patrick and better yet, he’s going to do it tonight. Its incredible! I really had no idea he was that stupid! It’ll send him over the edge. He’s already slowly turning evil, it’s inevitable. No matter what the source, human blood will drive him evil but this will only speed things along. He’ll be back with us for good this time, or…” Brendon laughed again. “For bad! And maybe I’ll let him kill you too? Maybe?”

Andy could only stare up, speechless and afraid. Targeting them individually, attacking them through their deepest held fears and weaknesses at a time when they were already shaken and struggling with recent events had been a masterstroke. Worst of all, none of them had seen it coming, but all of them were all too likely to fall victim. Andy could only hope that the others wouldn’t walk blindly into the traps set for them.

Releasing his hold and pushing Andy to the floor, Brendon spun on his heels and delivered a violent kick to Andy’s abdomen, sending him crashing back against the wall. Gasping in agony and coughing though the crushing pain as a haze fell down over his eyes, Andy fought the blackness sweeping over him, determined to remain conscious, finally letting out a breath as the pain subsided. Looking up he realised he was alone in the room, Brendon had gone. Reaching behind him to find the source of an unexpected pain in his lower back, Andy smiled the first genuinely happy smile he had managed in a long time. Forcing himself to sit up, he leaned back against the wall; it was time to plan his escape.

*

Watching for a few moments, almost in a daze of admiration as Joe walked determinedly from his office, his mind fixed on finding Andrea, Patrick frowned. What would happen when he did find her? Would he kill her? How could he? He had loved her, no matter what she had become, he had loved her. No, Patrick Rose urgently to his feet, she was more likely to kill him. She had a distinct advantage - she didn’t care.

Heading for the door, Patrick pulled up sharply as the door swung shut. The moment’s hesitation was enough. He heard the faintest ring of female laughter before his chair was brought crashing down onto his back. The splintered wood fell about him as he dropped like a stone to his knees. Gasping in surprise and pain, Patrick scrambled towards the door only to fall far short, kicked to the floor by unseen feet.

“Master William taught me well, Patrick,” Andrea’s voice rang out in an amused tone with a vicious edge. “I can block you so effectively that you can’t even see me. Did you really think I wouldn’t hear your conversation with Joe? Such a shame you didn’t drink the Holy Water, it wouldn’t have helped you, but it would have been fun to watch you writhing in pain.”

Almost to his knees, Patrick fell once more then two more times in swift succession. Andrea had the upper hand, blocked by her and so unable to see her, Patrick was at a loss to counter her attacks. Patrick was faster and possibly a little stronger than her, but it all went for nothing while she remained effectively invisible.

“Go on,” she cooed. “Call for Joe. Get him in here. I’ll kill him, then you. A prize for Master William. You’re all but destroyed.”

Lunging towards the sound of her voice, Patrick continued to be frustrated at the ease with which she evaded him. Crashing to the floor once more as she brought a fist down on the base of his neck, Patrick’s head was yanked back violently and an impressively sharp blade pressed firmly against his neck, drawing blood at even the slightest pressure.

“They say decapitation will kill a vampire. I’m ready to try,” she laughed. “Are you?”

*

Joe sighed heavily. He tried hard to push the dread out of his mind as he headed briskly to the weapons lockers. He knew Andrea was nearby. Thanks to Spencer, he knew that she had been turned into a vampire and was working for Beckett; haunting him as if she were a ghost, intent on destroying his very being and finally killing him if he hadn’t taken his own life. It was the cruellest possible thing that could have happened to him following her death. But he had to push all that out of his mind and concentrate on finding her. He knew only too well that this would not be easy; vampire hearing was acute and she would hear him coming a long time before he actually arrived at her location, wherever that was. At least he had the element surprise on his side; she was not expecting him to know she had been turned. It was as if she were draining him herself as Joe felt the blood rush from his cheeks. He almost felt dizzy as the realisation washed over him. She had acute hearing, he felt sure that he had heard her speak from within the building when he and Patrick had discussed not only that they knew she had been turned but that Patrick couldn’t see her. Then the bigger question dawned on him, how was she in the building? When he had first encountered her, she had been outside, he remembered looking outside to see her. Scouring his memory, he felt a rush of heat as he realised in horror that he himself had invited her in.

_Staring out of the small window in his room, Joe’s eyes were transfixed on the form of the ghostly pale Andrea standing a little way out in the parking lot behind the warehouse._

_“Andrea?” he choked out, shaking his head and closing his eyes briefly as if to clear his mind and vision._

_In that split second she was gone, having raced to a spot immediately below his window and out of sight from his line of view._

_“No!” he cried hopelessly. “Andrea! Don’t go. Just… Just be here, right here with me now.” At no response, Joe’s voice fell to a whisper. “I need you… Please.”_

Had that qualified as an invitation? Had Spencer invited her in and just not told them? The fact he was locked in the cage for more than one night and that it was intended to be a long-term arrangement certainly qualified him as living there. It would be the sort of thing he could imagine him doing, then just not saying anything. The only thing of which he was truly certain was that neither Pete, Andy nor Patrick would have done it. Patrick. Joe’s blood ran cold as he realised that Patrick could be in danger, possibly even more than he was. Added to that was the fact that Patrick was completely unable to see or hear her. If she attacked him, he would be completely oblivious to it. Almost as confirmation, he realised that Patrick had not followed him as he had expected. Turning on his heels, he ran as fast and as silently as he could back to Patrick’s office.

*

“Aren’t you going to beg for your life?” Andrea laughed, drawing the knife an inch to the right, slicing a small cut across Patrick’s throat, causing a trickle of blood to roll down his neck, pooling as it met his shirt. “Ugh!” Andrea exclaimed her distaste. “Your blood stinks! How do you hold that down? It’s disgusting!”

Unable even to see the knife while she held it, Patrick felt almost foolish standing in the middle of his office rooted to the spot, held by an unseen vampire.

“Why are you still bothering to block me?” he asked carefully, trying hard not to move too much, or accidentally pressing his throat into the knife. “It’s not as if I don’t know you’re there.”  
“Maybe so, but while you can’t see me, you can’t fully second guess where I am, so you can’t even try to escape.”

Patrick gritted his teeth, frustrated that she had guessed his motives.

“I am going to kill you, Patrick, trust me on that, I just want you to suffer first.”  
“Why?” he asked, half expecting some sort of elaborate reasoning over some perceived sleight while she had been alive.  
“For fun,” she laughed. “Nothing more. Why? Do I need another reason?”  
“I guess you don’t,” Patrick frowned. “But…”

Patrick grimaced in pain as Andrea pulled the blade a little further across his throat before pushing it back in it’s original position, forcing the knife a little deeper into his neck.

“Am I really going to have to smell more of that disgusting blood when I pull this down all the way?” she mocked with a cruel peal of laughter.

Patrick heard little more than a gasp in his ear, followed by the sound of the knife clattering to the floor. Instantly placing a hand to his throat to stem the bleeding as he felt himself suddenly released, Patrick was at a loss to understand what had just happened.

“No, you evil bitch,” Joe’s strained voice replied to her question. “You won’t.”

Turning quickly, Patrick stood aghast to see Joe standing behind him and Andrea crumpled on the floor, a stake jammed into her heart through her back.

“Joe?” Patrick whispered to his ashen-faced friend. “Thank you! But… Are you okay?”

Joe stood in silence, reflecting on the question, taking a deep breath as he lowered his eyes to stare at the vampire lying at his feet, trying desperately to remain objective and distant.

“It wasn’t her,” he finally replied, almost choking on the words. “It wasn’t Andrea, not the Andrea I knew; she just looks like her.”  
“Yeah, but…” Patrick began, at a loss to know what to say that would comfort his friend. Finally leaning in for a hug, Patrick sighed as Joe sank into his arms readily. The slight shake in the shoulders of the traumatised hunter gave away more than any words could have.

It should have been a peaceful moment with two friends comforting each other, one on a lucky escape, the other for having to stake his recently turned girlfriend. They needed this moment to reset, but it was not to be. Wrenched out of Patrick’s grip, Joe was pulled back and held firmly as a fist shot forward and connected sharply with Patrick’s jaw sending him spinning backwards to the floor.

Crying out in shock and pain, all of Joe’s struggles fell away as the pair of fangs pierced his neck. The razor sharp teeth slicing through his skin with ease almost caused his knees to buckle under him but the two handed grip held him in place for a few more moments before he was thrown viciously to one corner of the room.

Shaking the dazed feelings from his mind, Patrick scrambled to his feet, his eyes widening as he spotted Joe lying in a crumpled heap, unmoving and apparently not breathing in the far corner of the room. In the doorway, Gabe Saporta stood leaning on the frame, arms crossed with one foot tucked casually behind the other as he watched with amused interest. But what brought the greatest level shock to his expression was Pete, standing in the middle of the room, staring at him with wide eyes, his shoulders lightly hunched, blood still on his lips - Joe’s blood.

“Pete? What the Hell are you doing?” Patrick cried in a shocked tone. “Joe?”  
“Don’t bother,” Pete smirked. “He tasted good, that’s all you need to know.”  
“What the Hell is going on?” Patrick asked urgently.  
“I tried to tell you, Patrick,” Pete shook his head mockingly. “I tried to make you listen to me, but you didn’t want to know. Human blood. It’s not just an addiction, it’s a sickness. I’m still connected to you. You were my first human blood. You tasted amazing; I have to tell you. Your fear… The adrenaline, so sweet, so rich. Better than chocolate… Hell! Better than British chocolate! I’m sorry about Joe,” Pete heard Saporta shift behind him, only to settle back into his relaxed state as he continued. “Sorry I didn’t make you eat him. It doesn’t seem right to kill you before you’ve had the chance to taste real blood… Human blood. It’s so different, Trick. You’ve missed so much, I can’t even begin to tell you.”  
“Kill me?” Patrick stared with confusion at Pete’s sudden breakdown.  
“Do you think we could move this along please?”  
“You must have seen this coming, Trick. You, with all your notes and observations. Did you really not know it would come to this?” Pete seemed almost pitying. “I have to kill you. All vampires kill their original blood source… Not me, I turned you. Your very existence is eating away at me, threatening to destroy me. While you’re alive, I’ll crave more human blood. With you dead, I get control back.”  
“That’s garbage, Pete, you know it is!” Patrick protested.  
“No,” Pete shook his head. “No, it makes perfect sense. I need to kill Beckett and to do that I need a clear head. So, I need to kill you. It’s simple logic; you understand that now, I know you do. Simple vampire logic, clinical, no emotion, just driven by need.”  
“Wentz,” Saporta prompted. “Get on with it.”

Pulling a stake from his pocket, Pete shrugged almost apologetically.

“I know you’re fast, Patrick, but you won’t get past Gabe and you know I’m stronger than you. This _is_ going to happen, you might as well give in.”  
“Pete, I know what to do now, I can help you!” Patrick tried to convince him.  
“No,” Pete shook his head. “ _I_ know what to do.”

Stepping forward, Pete moved to within two feet of Patrick. Quickly darting to the side, Patrick bolted for the door only to be met by Gabe Saporta, quicker again than the younger vampire; he shoved Patrick back into the office, so viciously that he found himself tumbling to the floor. Straddling him in an instant, Pete held him down by his rapidly healing neck. Pausing briefly, almost as if he was still questioning the action, Pete brought the stake down hard, jamming it into Patrick’s chest, leaving it embedded and pausing to watch as Patrick sagged limply beneath him.

Only moments later, he was pushing himself to his feet, his eyes wild and hungry.

“Take me to Beckett!” he demanded. “I want to tell him myself - the hunters are dead.”


	17. What about Andy?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter - how will this end? With Andy dead, Pete evil and Beckett victorious? Read on...

Joe stirred slowly. Every muscle ached, but nothing felt quite as bad as the searing pain emanating from his neck. Raising his hands, he didn’t know whether to reach for his neck first or to comfort the violent pounding in his head. The shock of being bitten by Pete followed by being thrown so viciously across the room had rendered him briefly unconscious. Mentally checking his limbs, groaning at the effort of every movement, Joe finally pushed himself upright, flopping back against the wall, his breathing heavy and fast. How he was still alive, he didn’t know. It was bizarre. Bitten by Pete; he never thought that terrible day would ever come but even more than that, that he would succumb so easily. It wasn’t just the bite, or even the shock. Somehow Pete had subdued him physically just by sheer will alone. Had Beckett done the same when he attacked Pete two years earlier? He understood now how a trained hunter could be overcome so easily. He had doubted Pete when he had heard of the lack of a struggle and had mistrusted him on his return. How wrong he had been! But now, he was definitely not to be trusted; he had bitten him, tasted his blood. Joe frowned. And yet he was still alive… somehow. Why go to all that effort just to knock him out? It seemed highly implausible. Looking around the office, Joe’s bleary eyes fell on the prone form of Patrick, lying perfectly still with a stake jammed into his chest.

“Patrick!” Joe cried in alarm.

He had almost convinced himself again that Pete could be trusted, that he was working from an unknown plan, one that with luck would lead to the downfall of Beckett and his new Coven. But no… Pete had killed Patrick. It was unthinkable, it was unimaginable. Crawling across the floor as fast as his aching limbs would allow, Joe frowned deeply and unhappily at the pale form lying next to him. Pulling the stake from his friend’s chest, Joe stared hard, his brow creased in confusion. In his hand lay half a stake; the top half to be precise. So much of the point was removed that there was barely enough to hold. Pushing Patrick’s shirt to one side, Joe saw one of the stake proof vests that Patrick had originally designed for Pete covering his heart, protecting him from the potentially lethal blow.

“Patrick?” Joe asked, his voice rising so he almost shouted the name. “Patrick!”  
“Yeah,” Patrick gasped in pain and discomfort. “It was never going to kill me, but, man did it hurt!” he explained.  
“You… You’re okay? You’re alive?” Joe stammered as Patrick pushed himself into a sitting position, the occasional grimace gracing his lips. “But how?”  
“It’s just a trick,” Patrick began to explain.  
“Well, this wasn’t!” Joe shouted back, displaying the bite marks on his neck. “Neither is the blinding headache I’ve got from being slammed into the wall! Pete tried to kill me!”  
“No,” Patrick shook his head. “He didn’t.”  
“I didn’t do this to myself!” Joe protested. “I’m just lucky he missed my jugular!”

Patrick chuckled at the comment, earning a furious glance from Joe.

“I don’t see what’s funny!” Joe snapped.  
“Trust me, Joe, Pete didn’t miss, he knows _exactly_ where your jugular is.”  
Joe frowned, his expression swiftly turning uncertain. “I’m not sure that makes me feel any better. But… But, I’m glad you’re okay. Pete… Does he know?”  
“Of course he knows,” Patrick laughed as he leaned back against one of the filing cabinets. “He had to know or he’d have used a real stake! It’s the start of our attempt to even the playing field with Beckett. He thinks he’s playing us, well we like to play too.”  
“Well, how come I don’t know?” Joe asked indignantly.  
“Pete came to me, told me that Gabe Saporta had approached him with some tale about beating his bloodlust by killing me. I have to admit it was quite a convincing tale, but garbage. We decided to use the situation, use it to get to Beckett, but it had to be convincing. He had to stake me and he had to _kill_ you. So, I wore a stake-proof vest and he switched the stakes at the last minute. He had to bite you, Joe,” Patrick looked apologetic. “There was no other way to make it convincing.”  
“Well, it convinced me!” Joe sighed. “But, wasn’t there a risk?”  
“Of?”  
Joe licked his lips, almost ashamed to ask. “That he’d drain me?”  
Patrick took a deep breath. “Doesn’t it say a lot that he didn’t?”  
“Yeah, I guess,” Joe nodded, sighing in mild shame. “I shouldn’t have doubted him. But it still doesn’t explain why you didn’t tell me.”  
“Saporta would have sensed it straight away. If he’d checked, even the slightest reading of your mind and he’d have known. It had to be _that_ convincing.”  
“Do you think it worked?”  
“If it hadn’t, you’d have been drained for real and Pete and I would be be very dead.”  
“So there was no truth in what Saporta was saying to Pete?”  
“Pete is genuinely addicted to human blood and his craving, if not satisfied, will drive him to kill,” Patrick nodded solemnly.  
“So, he is turning evil?” Joe asked bleakly.  
“No, he just needs human blood,” Patrick corrected.  
“You’ve been giving him human blood,” Joe replied, confused and wondering what subtle point he had missed.  
Patrick shook his head slowly. “before you worry, I haven’t tried it, but Pete tells me that packet blood is like a photograph of a chocolate cake.”

Joe frowned, now certain he was missing the point.

“It looks right, but it tastes terrible and leaves you very dissatisfied,” Patrick explained to Joe’s amusement.  
“Yep,” he smiled. “That’s a Pete-ism.”  
“So? What? He needs to eat people?” Joe’s already concerned expression grew ever more tense.  
“No,” Patrick replied to his friend’s relief. “I can help him, Joe, I’m sure of it.”  
“Well, we better deal with this mess and then you can. But… What about Andy? Is he in on this? Where is he?”

Patrick’s shoulders fell and looking down at his hands, he heaved a sigh.

“No, that’s genuine enough,” he added raising his eyes to meet Joe’s. “We have no idea where he is. Come on, we have to get down to the Mayor’s office. Pete should be there by now. This time we’re taking him down for good.”  
“What about Andy?”  
“We’ll find him, Joe and… Thanks… for saving my life. It must have been hard for you to kill her.”  
“I didn’t,” Joe choked out. “Beckett did and now it’s my turn.”

Patrick offered Joe a faint smile and a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. They all had more than enough personal reasons to kill him, but maybe Joe had a little more?

*

For about the three hundredth time Andy pulled fruitlessly on the chains holding him to the floor. He sighed heavily as, once again, they held absolutely firm. He had ideas and some very specific plans, yes, but that was part of the problem - they were too specific. While chained up there was absolutely nothing he could do to change his situation. All he could do was hope that before torturing him to the point he was too weak to try, Brendon would release him from his chains. He had no idea how long he had been there, or even whether it was night or day. He had been in some bad situations before, and quite recently too, and he had survived. He had to keep believing that he would this time too. Giving in was the first stage of giving up; he would not give them that pleasure. If this was the end, he would fight them tooth and nail. They’d know why they were the last hunter group in town and he’d make them suffer at every single opportunity. Better yet, Andy patter his belt, he would overcome Brendon and either escape or kill Beckett. Andy nodded to himself; whatever would actually happen, he would not simply sit back and allow it. He was stronger than that.

*

“William?” Brendon spoke with uncertainty in his tone.  
“Yes, Brendon?” Beckett leaned back in the chair stretching his long legs out in front of him. It had been a long but interesting night so far. In his eager anticipation for word from either Andrea or Gabe, Beckett had foregone eating and was now significantly hungry and with it, irritable.  
“I was wondering if your… keenness to have Pete turn evil and join our Coven was for the best.”

Beckett’s eyes narrowed as he stared at Brendon. Despite calling Brendon his equal and making him a Coven Master in his own right, he had not quite got out of the habit of treating him like the subordinate he would probably always be in his mind.

“You’re questioning me?” Beckett growled.  
“Yes, William,” Brendon struggled to say. “I am a Master now too and I should get a say in what we do.”  
“Then have your say,” Beckett replied.

If anyone else had heard the words, it would have sounded perfectly acceptable, but Brendon, after years of dealing with Beckett, had heard the threatening undertone. Brendon nodded, he had been asked to say what he thought, he could hardly be punished for doing just that.

“I just think that the likelihood of Pete turning evil is… well, it’s unlikely to say the least. I know he’s had human blood now, but apart from a desperate craving for it, there’s no reason to believe he’ll turn evil.”  
“And what will convince you?”  
Brendon shook his head. “When Wentz walks through that door having killed Patrick, maybe, I’ll consider it!”  
“Well,” Beckett laughed. “Let’s ask him shall we?”  
“What?”

As Brendon asked the question, the door opened and to his astonishment, Pete strode confidently into the room before lowering himself to his knees.

“Master William, Master Brendon,” Pete greeted them respectfully, keeping his eyes lowered.

Behind him, Gabe Saporta entered, dragging Spencer in with him.

“I found this one outside. He’s still too weak to be of any real threat, but I thought maybe you’d want to see him.”  
Beckett scowled deeply. “How are you alive? I left you drained and starving!”  
Brendon looked at Beckett to see him staring harshly in his direction. “You saw me do it!” he protested. “If I hadn’t drained him I wouldn’t have even been strong enough to stand after what you did to me!”

Beckett looked away, accepting that there must be some other reason.

“How are you alive?” Beckett bellowed only to be again ignored by a very defiant Spencer.  
“It was Ryan, Master,” Pete replied. “He gave him his blood. He told me. I found him outside the warehouse watching. Let me have a re-match, this time there’ll be no doubt he’ll be dead!”  
“That would hardly be an even match, Peter, he’s quite weak.” Beckett chuckled. “Brendon, do you mind if Spencer eats your prisoner?”  
“Yes, I mind!” Brendon protested. “I have a dozen or more plans for torturing Andy.”  
“Andy?” Pete cocked his head to one side. “He’s here?” Pete smirked as he turned to face Beckett. “If anyone gets to kill him, it has to be me! I want the set.”  
“The set?” Beckett asked, intrigued.  
“Patrick, Joe and Andy.”  
“You killed Joe? Beckett raised his eyebrows in surprise. “What about Miss Logan?”  
“Andrea?” Pete shook his head in disdain. “She got ambitious, then she got careless, then she got dead. Joe, killed her. Worked out pretty well for me, he was too distracted to even notice me until my fangs were in his neck.”  
“And Patrick?”  
“Apparently Patrick likes his stake well done,” Saporta joined the conversation.  
“Excellent,” Beckett grinned. “Now then, to deal you once and for all,” he added glaring at Spencer.  
“Wait! You need a coven, give me another chance! Please?”  
“Brendon?” Beckett turned to the vampire, noticing the look of bitter resentment on his face.

Grabbing Spencer, Brendon dragged him closer, all the while Spencer struggling in his grip. Without another word, Brendon sank his fangs into Spencer’s neck, chuckling as he tore at his flesh mercilessly. As Spencer weakened, Brendon extended one arm and used his newly learned powers of levitation to raise a heavy mahogany table from the floor and smash it against the wall. Pieces of it fell heaped to the floor, great spiked sections of wood sticking up and out into the room. Brendon laughed as he picked up Spencer bodily and threw him onto one of the spikes. Gurgling as what remained of his blood pooled in his mouth, Spencer slumped lifeless and silent.  
“Awesome!” Pete cried turning to look at Brendon. “That was amazing!”

Brendon preened himself, a superior smirk on his face. Pete’s comment apparently impressing him more even than his killing of Patrick. If he wasn’t convinced before, he was now.”  
“Peter,” Beckett began. “Now that Brendon is a Master in his own right and I know Master Gabriel has already explained to you, you may be my Second.”  
“Master William!” Pete gasped, kneeling once more. “Such an honour!”  
“Rise, Peter, I have work for you and Brendon.”  
“Of course, Master,” Pete nodded, getting to his feet once more.  
“But now, Master Gabriel, your reward,” Beckett smiled graciously.

*

Gabe Saporta stared expectantly at Beckett, who merely kept smiling in return.

“I have a lot to thank you for, Gabriel. You have succeeded in helping Peter here find his true self, you have returned him to us, you have even helped finish off the last of the hunters. But most of all, you have allowed me to do the one thing I’ve always wanted to do.”  
“And what’s that, William?” Saporta smirked, enjoying the praise.  
Turning his smile slowly into a cruel and sadistic smirk, Beckett replied: “Why, kill you, of course.”

There was the smallest fraction of a moment in which Saporta had the chance to take in the words and react, but the moment was gone in the blink of an eye. Crashing to the floor, toppled by the unexpected attack, Saporta tried desperately to free himself from the vicious slicing of both Brendon and Pete’s fangs as they tore at any and all exposed flesh. Blood poured from open wounds, neither of them drinking, merely tearing at the flesh to inflict maximum damage. The Coven Leader’s arms grew weaker and he was no longer capable of even trying to fight back and finally his head flopped back to the floor. Weak and exhausted, he stared up at the gloating face of William Beckett now standing over him.

“Perhaps not quite what you expected, Gabriel, but much more than you deserve. You see, now I have your Coven. I have to ask, realistically, how did you really think this was going to end? An important vampire such as I must have a strong Coven to lead and yours my friend is just that. True, it needs work to smarten itself up a bit, but I don’t think too many will resist the new order, do you?”  
“Go to Hell, Beckett!” Saporta choked out in little more than a whisper, aware that his death was imminent.  
“Ah, but therein lies the problem, my friend. Hell won’t take us!” Beckett laughed as he turned away, stepping back as Brendon drew closer once more. “Finish him off.”

It took only a matter of moments for Brendon to finish the kill. Now standing, his mind obviously relishing the thought of leading part of the Midtown Coven, Brendon seemed almost in a daze. Pete too seemed momentarily thoughtful before finally speaking.

“Wanna play with your new toy?” he beamed. “You said you had plans for him.”  
“He’s mine,” Brendon frowned with a possessive glare.

Taking a few steps back, Pete shrugged and gestured with his arms, palms up.

“I’ll just watch,” he suggested pushing himself up onto a table. “You want me to learn, don’t you? Who better to learn from?”

Pete smirked as his words had the desired effect as, once again, Brendon’s personal pride took over.

“You want to learn torture?” Brendon cocked his head appreciatively.  
“It’s a skill, I know that,” Pete replied, appealing to Brendon’s ego more and more with each word. “And… I heard what you did to Andrea.” Pete leaned forward hungrily. “Show me.”

Drawing his lips into a cruel smile, Brendon relished the idea of Pete as some sort of protege and nodding his approval, he headed back to where he had left Andy.

“So, Peter,” Beckett began, staring intently at the young vampire. “I don’t know how you managed to trick me that you had turned evil and returned when we were at the mansion. I gave a very thorough search of your mind and found nothing to suggest your intentions. I presume that a similar search would reveal little?”

Pete grimaced at the words before turning a reluctant, yet subservient expression towards Beckett.

“If you need to, Master,” Pete frowned. “I guess I only have myself to blame.”  
“You’re happy to submit to a telepathic interrogation?” Beckett raise an eyebrow.  
“I wouldn’t go so far as to say happy, Master William, but I understand why you would want to.”  
“You humiliated me, Peter,” Beckett warned. “You will have to earn my trust and respect.”  
“Yes, Master,” Pete nodded his agreement.  
“I find you unexpectedly compliant,” Beckett frowned. “As if, maybe, you’re trying just a little too hard. Don’t think I’m not watching you Peter, you won’t humiliate me again.”  
Pete dropped down onto one knee as he spoke. “With respect, Master, I know it seems as though you have no reason to trust me. I’ve caused you to be humiliated twice, both times through leaving the Coven, not to mention the difficulties I’ve caused you as a hunter. I can’t take those things and make them as if they never happened, but I can make up for them. I killed Patrick and Joe. I helped kill Master Saporta. If you let me… I’ll kill Andy too. I want the set. I’ll drain him right in front of you. You’ll see with your own eyes. As much as my old stupid self would have liked to kill you, I would never have even bitten one of the others, never mind kill them! I’m past that now, I see them for what they are! Weak, feeble. Food! Nothing more.”  
“Very well, but I will be watching you closely, Peter, mark my words.”  
“Yes, Master,” Pete nodded solemnly.

The sounds of scuffling beyond the room drew both their attentions. Turning as Brendon returned dragging Andy with him, his hands secured behind his back, Pete smirked as he caught Andy’s shocked expression.

“Pete?” Andy cried in surprise. “They got you too?”

Pete laughed mockingly. Settling himself on top of a table, Pete drew his right leg up, wrapping his arms around his knee as he hooked his heel on the wooden lip of the table.

“Tell me,” he chuckled. “Do I look like a prisoner?”  
Andy paled as he took in the words. “You… You… Human blood? You turned evil even after everything Patrick was doing to help?”  
“Help?” Pete laughed again. “He was clueless!”  
“Was?” Andy whispered, barely able to think about the significance of the word.  
“Yeah, past tense,” Pete grinned. “Very past tense. I staked him. Even as I held him down he was still telling me he could help me! Laughable! I don’t need help. I have everything I could possibly want right here!”  
“Joe?”

If it were possible, Andy’s voice dropped still further. It may only have been Pete’s heightened vampire hearing that helped him discern that Andy had even spoken. By way of a reply, Pete merely ran his tongue across his teeth, his fangs showing, not completely retracted. He chuckled as Andy lowered his head, unable even to look at him. He was alone now.

“So, Bren…” Pete began, only to be interrupted.  
“Master Brendon, to you,” Brendon corrected, drawing a mischievous smile from Pete.  
“Yes, Master Brendon,” Pete replied irreverently. “So, you were going to torture him?” he prompted, earning a look of pure hatred from Andy in return.  
“Watch and learn,” Brendon replied harshly as he threw Andy at his feet.

Immediately Andy’s face was growing darker with a purplish tinge. Somehow, Brendon was using his powers to suffocate him without even touching him. Pete was not impressed.

“What are you afraid of?” he mocked.  
“I’m not afraid of anything!” Brendon snapped angrily.  
“Then why, with three strong vampires in the room, do you have one human wearing handcuffs?” Pete responded in a scathing tone. “I got to ask again - what are you afraid of?”  
“You want to see him fight back?” Brendon scowled. “What’s the point, he can’t win!”  
“Of course he can’t! But he’ll still try, that’s half the fun, surely?”  
“Brendon,” Beckett nodded. “Release the hunter, we need some sport.”

Andy turned a fierce expression to each of them causing Pete to burst out laughing.

“Ah, if looks could kill, eh, Andy? But they don’t. We do.”

Andy turned his eyes back to Pete. There had been something about the way he said ‘We do’ that made him briefly wonder if he meant ‘we’ as in he and Andy. It seemed he was merely clutching at straws, overly hopeful. As he saw Pete laugh once more, he closed his mind to the idea. Anger welled up inside him as Brendon stepped closer to release him from his handcuffs. Now standing in front of him, Andy’s back almost pressed against the wall, Brendon spoke.

“Well, Andy, what have you got?” he mocked. “I don’t see that there’s much point in this exercise. I can kill you any time I want. What could you possibly do to threaten me?”

Reaching behind his back whilst masking his thoughts, Andy pulled a Holy Water soaked stake from the previously unnoticed holster at the small of his back, hidden by his jacket, and swinging his arm back, jammed the spike into Brendon’s side. Feeling the sudden weakness and pain in Brendon, Beckett’s eyes widened in surprise, but before he had the chance to take even one step forward to come to his aid, Pete had spun on his heels and had slammed a foot into Beckett’s chest, propelling him backwards onto the same long sharp length of wood already occupied by the long-dead form of Spencer. Beckett gasped in shock, taking in possibly the first breath he had bothered to inhale in decades, as the splintered wood tore through his abdomen. Blood poured from the gaping wound and he found himself only able to hang limply, supported by the spiked wooden beam. Blood bubbled into his throat as he tried hard to use his powers to free himself. Each time Beckett’s levitational skills would begin to lift him from the oversized stake, Pete would kick him back down with increasing venom.

Near the wall, Brendon barely registered his former master’s predicament. Clutching the stake with sizzling hands, he looked up into Andy’s shining eyes, another stake already clutched in his fingers. A faint smile fleetingly crossed Brendon’s lips at the inevitability of what he knew would happen. Closing his eyes, he barely felt the stake plunging into his heart, before dropping silent and unmoving to the floor.

“No!” Beckett’s voice, barely audible now, registered the severed link with his favourite, but he was in no position to save even himself from the relentless kicking of the incensed Pete.  
“That’s for Joe, you bastard!” Andy screamed.  
Turning sharply, Pete’s eyes widened at the sight of his livid friend. “Joe’s alive, Andy,” he reassured him before resuming his continuing battle to keep Beckett firmly impaled.  
“So am I,” Patrick added as he and Joe entered the room, delighted to see the carnage and their hated enemies dead or dying.  
“I… I… meant Andrea, really,” Andy stammered.

Joe offered a faint smile of appreciation as they all gathered in front of Beckett, now unable even to try to raise himself due to phenomenal blood loss.

“Pete?” Joe began. “You’ve waited two years.”  
“No,” Pete shook his head, offering a long spike of wood to Joe. “He only took my life, he took your reason for living. This one’s yours.”

It seemed to Joe that Pete was making too much of a sacrifice. His whole vampire life had been geared up to revenge. It seemed wrong to him that he should snatch that away from him, but Pete was already pressing the stake into his hands.

“Do it.”

For years of bitter torment for them all. For Pete’s life, for Patrick’s, for Andy’s shock at losing a friend to greed and what he could gain from serving a vampire and of course, for his beloved Andrea, Joe plunged the stake with venom and deadly accuracy into Beckett’s heart. Finally, all four of them watched with exhausted relief as the vampire leader hung limply, the last of his blood draining away.

It was as if no one knew what to say for a few moments before, finally, Pete broke the ice.

“I’m sorry about biting you, Joe.”  
“It’s okay,” Joe replied, at last able to tear his eyes away from Beckett’s body, satisfied that this time he was truly dead. “Patrick explained why you had to.”  
“Not completely,” Patrick added. “There’s one thing I didn’t mention.”  
“What?” Joe frowned, tensing slightly.  
“We had to be sure that Beckett believed I’d killed you,” Pete began to explain. “I had to smell of human blood, but a simple bite wouldn’t have been enough.”  
“You…” Joe didn’t want to ask.  
“No,” Pete replied firmly. “I didn’t kill. Patrick finally worked out the blood to adrenaline ratio to replicate the taste of real blood.”  
“You mean, as if someone was scared?” Andy clarified.  
“Yeah,” Pete nodded almost ashamed to admit it.  
“So what does that mean?” Joe asked.  
“I drank it before meeting Saporta,” Pete continued. “It satisfied my craving. It meant I could bite you and not want to drain you.”  
“You mean there was a risk?” Joe cried turning to Patrick, who shrunk back at the suddenness of his almost accusatory question.  
Patrick shrugged. “Tiny,” he gestured with his finger and thumb a small distance apart.  
“But, Joe, it worked!” Pete enthused. “He found it! I’m not turning evil and my bloodlust is back under control!”

Joe and Andy stared back, smiles forming as the full meaning of that one simple statement hit them. They were back, they were a team and finally, they had won what had seemed a never-ending war. It had taken its toll on all of them. None of them would never be the same people again, but they were together and they were determined that that would never change.

 

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You didn't REALLY think I'd kill Patrick off, did you? :D 
> 
> I really hope you enjoyed this, I had a great time writing it! I have others here if you want to read more of my stuff and I have some MCR fics too if you like them. Thanks for reading and/or commenting/kudos, I really do appreciate them!! Sas xo


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